


The Fiasco Legacy

by skyrat



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Blitzstone, Depression, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyrat/pseuds/skyrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blitzen never thought that dragging Hearthstone to his Uncle's funeral would end up making his life so complicated. Nosy relatives, a fake relationship (because that always ends well), a mysterious ring and Loki – what could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fiasco Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note for future readers that this was written immediately after the release of Sword of Summer...so if it ends up conflicting with the canon of the following two books (and there's a good chance it will because I took an awful lot of creative license with the unknown parts of Blitzen's family and backstory,) it can't be helped!

The raven’s wings beat against the windowpane, thick glass unyielding against its useless thrashing. It had been unsuccessfully trying to gain entrance for at least an hour now, the warm glow behind the glass taunting it with the room’s obvious occupancy and said occupants’ obliviousness to its efforts to join them.

In Blitzen’s defense, his sewing machine was fairly loud. And he was long lost to “the zone” of a creative frenzy. A car alarm probably could have deployed next to him without catching his attention.

The room’s only other occupant had a better excuse for not noticing the bird’s frantic scrabbling: he could not hear it. Although if Hearthstone had merely glanced up from his copy of _Rune Magic with the All-Father (three thousandth and sixty third edition – autographed copy!)_ he would have seen the commotion of black feathers and dark claws at the window.

He didn’t look up.

Hearthstone hadn’t looked up once in the past four hours. Time had a way of escaping him when he was learning new spells. The chances of him even remembering to stop for dinner were slim.

Or would have been if in one last desperate attempt to break through, the raven hadn’t thrown itself against the window with extra force. The glass rattled in the frame, sending faint vibrations throughout the room. Hearth paused mid page-turn, noticing the sudden tremble in the floorboards. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he finally caught sight of the bedraggled corvid.

Knowing that he had no more chance of catching Blitzen’s attention from across the room than the raven, Hearthstone took matters into his own hands and got up and gently opened the window. The bird quickly hopped onto the sill, glaring intensely at its rescuer before dropping a sealed envelope onto the floor. It ruffled its feathers, stretched it’s wings, leveled an extra heated glower at first Blitz’s still turned back, then at Hearth, before springing off the ledge and silently flapping away.

Hearth shut the window again before stooping to pick up the envelope.

_Blitzen, Son of Freya_ was very elegantly penned on one side in precise calligraphy. Beneath his name was a large wax seal with an intricate coat of arms involving rope and hammers or some other difficult to discern dwarven tools. The parchment was thick and velvety, a testament to its fine craftsmanship. It felt important. Of course even post-it notes felt important when they came from Nidavellir. Dwarves never made anything by halves.

Heath tried to signal Blitzen’s attention but Blitz was effectively tuning out anything beyond his sewing machine’s foot and the glide of limited edition polychrome damask. Hearth had no choice but to tap Blitz on the shoulder, which very nearly caused him to sew his finger to the half-formed waistcoat.

“Ahh!” he yelped, scrambling backwards and away from the rapidly moving needle. “Hearth!” he exclaimed, turning around to face his interrupter. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! This machine is a beast!”

_Sorry_. Hearth signed apologetically. _This seemed important._ He handed Blitz the envelope.

Blitz’s face immediately sobered as his eyes connected with the paper. He frowned. “Who’d be writing me from Nidavellir? This had better not be from Junior,” he muttered, breaking the seal. “I swear, if that geriatric old blowhard challenges me to another—” He stopped midsentence.

Hearthstone watched as his friend’s eyes widened and the parchment gave the slightest tremble in Blitz’s shaking fingers. He immediately put his hand on Blitzen’s shoulder, wanting to offer some sort of buttress against whatever bad news had been delivered.

“Huh,” was all Blitz said, staring blankly at the paper. “Huh.”

Hearth wanted to ask what was wrong, but doing so would have required letting go of his supportive grasp on Blitz. He decided he’d better serve his companion by patiently waiting until he was ready to share.

Blitzen continued to frown at the letter for several minutes before shrugging off Hearth’s hand so he could sit down on the sofa. Hearthstone followed him, sitting close by.

_What’s wrong?_ He finally asked.

_Death in the family_. Blitzen finally found the composure to sign.

_I’m sorry_. Hearth pulled Blitz into a hug. His willowy arms were much stronger than they looked. Blitz went unresisting into the embrace, still too stunned to do much of anything.

“It’s my Uncle Bernhard,” said Blitz, rubbing the back of his head. “We weren’t…we weren’t close or anything. But it’s still kind of a shock.”

Hearth nodded.

“He was so young,” continued Blitz. “Only 200. He should have been around for another couple of centuries. It couldn’t have been natural.”

_What happened?_ Asked Hearth.

_Doesn’t say,_ said Blitz, frowning again at the letter. “But there’s going to be a funeral in a few days.”

_Are you going to go?_

Blitz shrugged. _Dad would want me to go_.

_But you don’t want to_ , Hearth guessed.

_I hate funerals_ , agreed Blitz. _Too sad. Besides, everyone always dresses the same. They’re aesthetically offensive._

Hearthstone tried not to smile inappropriately. He didn’t want to seem insensitive at Blitzen’s loss…but it was kind of funny that even under such dismal conditions he managed to make the occasion about fashion.

_Do you need someone to go with you?_ Hearth asked.

For the first time since opening the envelope, Blitz’s eyes brightened. _Yes_ , he immediately replied. _Yes, that would help, actually. Thanks buddy._

_You can pick out my outfit_ , signed Hearth.

Blitz swiped at the dampness in his eyes and gave Hearth a genuine smile.

* * *

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” muttered Blitzen. He balked a few feet outside of the family manor. “I doubt anyone will care if I’m here. Yeah. They really won’t. Maybe—maybe we should just go.”

Hearthstone caught his arm and stopped him from jumping back onto one of Yggdrasil’s branches. He couldn’t say anything without letting go, so he just shook his head, giving Blitz a very pointed look that conveyed ‘ _you’ll regret that_.’

“Fi—ine.” Blitz sighed dramatically. “Lead me to the firing squad.”

He’d barely made it through the doors before he was tackled by a rather voluminous female dwarf.

“Oh Blitzen!” she wailed somewhat hysterically, wrapping her massive arms around him in a grip worthy of a cephalopod. “I’m so glad you could come and share our grief in this horrible tragedy! Can you believe it? So terrible! Terrible!!” she let out a very wet sounding choking snort against Blitz’s chest (he had about a half foot of height on her.)

“Careful!” Blitz exclaimed, trying to pry her away from his vest. “That’s Kashmir silk! And—” he glanced down at the large wet spot she’d left behind on his chest. “—Completely ruined now. Super. Nice to see you too, Borgildr.”

“You should come visit more often,” she sniffed, stepping back and inspecting him. “I haven’t seen you in—well, your beard hadn’t even come in yet last time!” She patted his cheeks. “Look at you! Just like your father! Bilì would be _so_ proud.”

Hearth noticed Blitzen tense at the mention of his dad and subtly placed a hand on his back. Blitz shot him a grateful look.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blitzen muttered at his gushing relative. “I’ve _always_ had a beard.”

“I have some photos that would say otherwise,” replied Borgildr, her wailing despair quickly ebbing into tempered amusement. She winked at Hearthstone. “Blitz here has been too rude to introduce me to his friend, but I’m sure he would like to see them. Would you like to see my photo album of—?”

“WE HAVE TO GO PAY OUR RESPECTS NOW,” Blitzen announced with unnecessary volume. “Too bad, not enough time. Maybe later. Like in a couple of eons. See you at dinner, Borgildr, bye.”

He dragged Hearth (who had been nodding enthusiastically at Borgildr) into the next room, which was considerably more crowded than the first one.

An array of dwarves—some of Nidavellier descent, but mostly Svartalfar—were scattered around, with the thickest congregation gathered around an elaborately carved wooden boat in the center of the room. Blitzen began walking towards the boat but they were again intercepted.

“Blitzen!” declared an older dwarf with a long greying beard. “So glad you could make it! Haven’t seen you ’round about these parts in over two years now! I hope you haven’t been neglecting your craft!”

“Hi Baldvin…no, I haven’t. In fact I’ve been _really_ busy crafting, that’s why I haven’t had time to visit.”

_He’s the best craftsperson in Midgard_ , signed Hearth.

Baldvin squinted at Hearth’s hands. “Eh, what was that?” he asked. “I’m afraid I don’t speak—” he gestured with his own hands, making nonsensical symbols in the air.

“He said he’s very sorry about Uncle Bernhard,” said Blitzen quickly.

Hearth glared at Blitz and pulled a notebook and pen out of his pocket. _No I didn’t._ He quickly scratched out on the paper. _Although I am sorry about Uncle Bernhard. I said that Blitzen is the best craftsperson in Midgard._ He presented the notebook to Baldvin.

Blitzen lightly kicked Hearth with his very fashionable boot.

“Well of course he is!” huffed Baldvin. “I wouldn’t expect any less of him!” He whacked Blitzen on the back with a lot more force than his elderly body appeared to have. “Talent runs in the family, obviously! And what about yours? We haven’t been introduced. Apparently manners _don’t_ run in this family, eh Blitzen?”

“Apparently not,” agreed Blitzen in a put-upon tone. “Um, sorry. Baldvin, this is Hearthstone, son of—” he abruptly cut off. He’d been about to say ‘son of Ember’ as was the appropriate Dwarven introduction. But he knew any sort of verbal acknowledgement of Hearth’s parents would cause the elf unnecessary mental stress. So he aborted midsentence and hastily finished, “—Perthro. Hearthstone Perthro. Hearth, this is Baldvin, son of Bersa. My third cousin twice removed.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hearthstone Perthro!” Baldvin caught Hearth’s hand in a steely handshake.

Hearth grimaced at the near mention of his mother, although he quickly forced his face back into neutrality.

_Nice to meet you, Baldvin, son of Bersa,_ wrote Hearth in the notebook.

“And what do you do?” Baldvin asked Hearth. “Are you also a fine crafter?”

_I’m just a scholar_ , wrote Hearth.

“Now who’s being too modest?” scoffed Blitz. “Don’t listen to him. He’s not just a scholar, he’s _Odin’s_ apprentice!”

Baldvin’s eyebrows rose appreciatively. “Is that so!” He stroked his beard. “Tell me, have you noticed the All-Father needing any new tableware?” he asked. “I specialize in salt shakers and candlesticks. If you notice Odin needing any new salt shakers or candlesticks, well, I would certainly appreciate a name drop, if you know what I mean.”

_I’ll keep a lookout_ , wrote Hearth.

“Much appreciated!”

“We need to go pay our respects to Bernhard,” said Blitzen, slowly edging away.

“Well don’t let this maker of truly exceptional museum-grade tableware stop you,” nodded Baldvin. “Unless of course _you_ need some salt shakers or candlesticks. In which case, by all means, come find me after the send-off.”

“I’m afraid we’re all stocked up already,” said Blitz, yanking Hearth away from Baldvin. “But we’ll let you know when we need some.”

“Soon, I hope!” replied Baldvin.

“Never, more like,” muttered Blitz under his breath. When they were a few yards away he turned to face Hearthstone.

_Don’t tell people I’m Odin’s apprentice,_ signed Hearthstone, before Blitzen had a chance to say anything. _It’s not true anymore. I was only his student for one session._

_That’s one session more than anyone else has had,_ replied Blitzen. _You’re more his apprentice than anyone else. Don’t downplay your talents so much._

Hearthstone made the sign for ‘pot’ and then followed it with the signs for ‘kettle’ and ‘black’ and rolled his eyes.

“Not even close to the same thing,” retorted Blitzen. _Dwarves don’t appreciate fashion. Inviting my family to talk about my skills is opening a big can of worms. Just avoid the topic._

_Maybe they would appreciate it if you talked to them about it more._

_Why would I do that when we could rush through this and just get the H-E-L-H-E-I-M back to Boston?_

A strange look flitted across Hearthstone’s face, but in a second it was gone.

“You okay, buddy?” asked Blitzen.

_Fine_ , signed Hearth. _Come on; let’s go see your uncle._ He turned and started walking towards the boat. Blitz had no choice but to follow.

* * *

“So where _is_ Uncle Bernhard?” asked Blitzen, peering into the funeral boat. There was a shroud inside, but it didn’t look like it could possibly be covering a full body, dwarf sized or otherwise.

“They only recovered a few pieces of him,” whispered a girl standing nearby. She was one of Blitz’s cousins that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. He thought her name was probably Brigida, but he couldn’t quite remember. Hopefully she wouldn’t expect an introduction.

“What happened?” asked Blitz.

“Something went wrong in his forge,” she explained. “One minute he was making a table, the next _kaboom!_ His whole house exploded.”

“Yikes.” Blitz’s mouth twisted in horror as he imagined the catastrophe. “That’s awful.”

“It was very strange,” agreed probably-Brigida. “He didn’t usually work with any volatile materials. He was pretty into the standard gold-silver-iron range. Exploding stuff just wasn’t his scene. We think some of his supplies might have gotten contaminated. Or maybe…” her voice dropped, “…it could have been _sabotage_.”

“You think he was murdered?” asked Blitz.

Probably-Brigida just shrugged. “Who knows. The explosion wiped out any evidence there might have been. It’s a mystery. Poor Uncle Bernhard.”

Blitz and Hearth exchanged a grim look.

“He’d gotten really rich right before the accident,” Blitz’s cousin continued conspiratorially. “Like, crazy rich. No one knows how. Seems a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Hm,” was all Blitzen responded, looking troubled.

“Speaking of rich, you’re certainly looking very… _dapper_.” Probably-Brigida gave Blitzen a sweeping evaluative glance. “Very fancy.”

Blitz shifted uncomfortably. Was she implying something? Or just being obnoxious? “I have a clothing shop in Midgard,” he explained. “Business has been pretty good.”

“Apparently,” she agreed. “It’s keeping you pretty sharp, huh? Your friend isn’t exactly hard on the eyes either.”

Blitz noticed her evaluative glance turn into more of a leer. He turned to see Hearthstone looking like a deer caught in headlights. There was a very noticeable dusting of green spreading across his cheeks.

For some reason her comment about Hearth annoyed Blitz more than the thinly veiled implication that he might have something to do with his uncle’s untimely demise. He bristled, suddenly remembering that there was a reason he hadn’t bothered to see this particular cousin in a long time. She seemed to make a hobby out of making people uncomfortable. And it was one thing for her to be making _Blitzen_ uncomfortable. But impinging on Hearth’s comfort was totally unacceptable. That is, he was assuming that Hearth didn’t like the advance. He couldn’t, right? No. Not from someone like _Brigida_ (or wait, was it Brettifa? Well, whatever her name was.) Yeah, he couldn’t possibly like that because Hearth was way too good for her. If one of his cousins was going to hit on Hearthstone, it had better be one of the ones that were actually worthy of him (except for the small fact that none of them were.) He crossed his arms and somewhat unconsciously shifted so that he was standing more solidly between her and Hearth.

“Of course not,” he said testily. “He’s an _elf_.” He said that like it was a given that all elves were attractive by default (well, they kind of were,) and not that Hearthstone in particular was extra-attractive (which he also was.)

(By Blitzen’s standards, anyway.)

(Hey, the anemic look is very vogue for high fashion!)

(Blitzen had merely observed this as a craftsman with a fine eye for artistic detail, of course, no other reason.)

(Really.)

“Is he single?” she asked unsubtly.

Blitzen opened his mouth and found himself very nearly announcing ‘no.’ He froze, suddenly confused why he’d felt so compelled to lie. Hearthstone _was_ single as far as he knew. He just…really didn’t like the idea of his cousin knowing that.

He glanced at Hearthstone who was staring at her blankly and acting like he’d suddenly forgotten how to read lips.

“He’s deaf,” Blitz explained in lieu of answering her question.

Probably-Birgida-or-maybe-Brettifa looked disappointed. “Oh,” she said less enthusiastically. “That’s too bad.”

“No it isn’t,” Blitzen immediately retorted. “I think it’s pretty cool, actually.”

She shot him a skeptical look and then shrugged and wandered off.

“Sorry about that,” said Blitzen, turning back to Hearthstone.

Hearthstone shrugged, although there was a grim set to his lips. _Used to it_ , he signed.

_That doesn’t make it okay,_ Blitz signed back. _I’m sorry you have to put up with that. It’s bad enough coming from your family; you shouldn’t have to deal with it from mine too._

_Your family is fine,_ replied Hearth. _I like your family._

And _that_ comment bothered Blitz more than anything his cousin had said. He knew Hearth’s parents were awful to him, but he hated the reminder that their emotional abuse was so bad that Hearth considered regular run-of-the-mill rudeness to him as perfectly acceptable and to be expected.

_She’s unpleasant to everyone,_ Blitz added, wanting to hammer in that probably-Brigida was the problematic thing, not Hearth’s handicap. _Let’s avoid her_. He flung his arm around Hearth’s shoulders (actually he was aiming at Hearth’s shoulders, but it was a bit of a reach for him so his arm slid down to Hearth’s upper back instead) in an impulse of protectiveness. He knew Hearth was _acting_ like everything was fine, but his feelings probably had been hurt.

They’d barely turned away from the boat when yet another relative swooped in.

“Bliiiiiitzen!” shrieked a familiar high-pitched voice.

“Hi Aunt Bótví,” sighed Blitzen in resignation.

“Well _hello_ ,” she announced in a way that made the ‘hello’ sound like it had all sorts of hidden meaning behind it, but Blitz was completely baffled as to what that meaning would be.

“It’s so nice to have all the family together, isn’t it?” she continued. “We should have reunions more often.”

“Hopefully under more pleasant circumstances,” stated Blitzen dryly.

“Well, _yes_ ,” his aunt agreed. “Most certainly. Like…a wedding perhaps? Our family is certainly long overdue for one of those.”

“Yeah,” agreed Blitz awkwardly. Why was his aunt staring at him so intensely? “I like weddings. My shop actually has a pretty extensive bridal line if you’d like to see it some time….”

“Well, speaking of bridals, I’d been meaning to ask you if you’d picked out a special bride-to-be,” she said, smiling knowingly. “But I guess I’ve been barking up the wrong tree with that line of thinking, eh Blitzy?”

“Wait, what?”

Blitzen felt Hearthstone tense slightly beneath his arm. His aunt’s eyes were darting back and forth between them, and her knowing smile was growing in smugness. He was so caught off-guard by her implication that he forgot to complain about her using that annoying nickname he hated.

“I think you have entirely the wrong idea,” said Blitz. “We’re just friends.”

“Yes, I see,” she said, clearly _not_ seeing. “Very _special_ friends, yes.”

“No seriously,” Blitz objected. “It’s not like that.”

Aunt Bótví looked pointedly at Blitz’s arm wrapped around Hearth and raised an eyebrow.

Blitzen swore inside his head. How exactly was he supposed to handle this? Should he drop his arm off of Hearth? Would that hurt Hearth’s feelings? Or spare him being embarrassed? He really hadn’t wanted to subject Hearthstone to any of this maelstrom of awkwardness that his family was apparently determined to fling at them. But maybe if he immediately drew away from him Hearth would think he was ashamed of him or something. Maybe that would be worse than his aunt embarrassing them. On the other hand, maybe Hearth would now think that Blitz had ulterior motives in touching him and would be uncomfortable if Blitz _didn’t_ immediately let go. By the hand of Tyr, how was he supposed to handle this?

Blitzen slid his eyes towards Hearthstone, searching for some sort of visual clue to how he should react. Hearth was nonchalantly looking away, obviously not attempting to read Blitz’s lips.

…That was weird. Hearth was _always_ attentively watching in case he needed to read his lips.

He hadn’t tried to pull away from Blitz’s arm though, so he decided to leave it be, refusing to let his aunt intimidate him out of being a supportive friend.

“We’re just friends,” he repeated very firmly.

“You do realize none of us will _mind_ , don’t you, dear?” his aunt continued to press. “I think it’s lovely. None of us ever understood why you were single for so long.”

“That’s great and all,” said Blitz in exasperation, “but there’s nothing for you to mind. Because I’m _still single_. I’m too busy with my work to even think about dating.”

“Well just be sure to invite me to the wedding when you finally decide you have time to think about it,” she insisted, shaking her finger at him. “I won’t forgive you if you don’t!”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Blitz muttered. “But you can expect to wait a _very_ long time for that news. Probably forever.”

“Mmhmm,” she said, clearly not believing him. “I can’t wait for my invitation. I’m sure it will be very chic.”

Blitzen just sighed in frustration as she finally trotted away. He steered Hearthstone (maybe a little too aggressively, but he was very done with dealing with relatives for a bit and didn’t want to give anyone a chance to intercept them again) into a deserted hallway at the back of the manor.

_I’m so sorry_ , he immediately signed to Hearth as soon as they were alone.

_Why?_ Asked Hearthstone.

The question threw Blitz for a bit of a loop. Shouldn’t the reason for his apology be pretty obvious? _That was kind of awkward_ , he explained.

_It wasn’t that bad_ , signed Hearth. _Your aunt is nice. I didn’t mind._

_You didn’t mind?_ Asked Blitz in surprise.

_I doubt she’s the first person to assume that about us._ Hearth shrugged. _It doesn’t really bother me._

“Oh,” said Blitz, absorbing that revelation. “Huh.”

_It bothers you?_ Hearth signed with some hesitation.

“No,” said Blitz quickly. Then he remembered himself and switched back to signing. _No_ , he repeated. _It’s just annoying how pushy she is. And she’s a huge gossip. She’s going to tell everyone that we’re together. It will be a headache to explain._

_Would it be easier for you if we just didn’t bother to explain?_ Asked Hearth.

_You mean…go along with it?_

_Sure_ , said Hearth. _If you want._

_You really wouldn’t mind?_ Blitz asked, skeptically.

_No_ , confirmed Hearth. _I wouldn’t mind_.

“My cousins do try to set me up with people all the time,” Blitzen pondered aloud. “It would be kind of nice to get a break from that for once.”

_Whatever you want to do_ , said Hearth agreeably.

“They won’t be satisfied with it just being this one time though,” Blitz mused. “They’ll expect you to keep showing up to stuff like this. They’ll probably start inviting me to things more than they used to, once they think there’s a potential new family member to get to know.”

Hearth shrugged again. _That’s okay. It’s not like I’ll ever have plans with my own family to go to instead._

That truth made Blitzen frown. _You know that if you want to do family stuff you could still come with me without us lying to them. You don’t have to go through with a charade just to get invited again. You’re always welcome to come with me to anything._

The faintest hint of a smile ghosted Hearth’s lips. _I know_ , he signed. _It’s not a problem though. But only if you wanted to. It was just an idea. We can explain to everyone that she was wrong if you’d rather. I was just trying to help._

For some reason watching Hearth sign ‘ _she was wrong’_ sent an uncomfortable twist through Blitzen’s stomach. “No, no, it’s a good idea,” he found himself babbling. “If you really don’t mind maybe we should try it. It would probably save us both a big headache, right?”

Hearth nodded. _I’ll let you do the talking though_.

“Okay,” Blitz nodded back. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

* * *

They went back into the main hall, where speeches celebrating Uncle Bernhard’s glorious achievements of artistic mastery were underway.

Blitz tried to pay attention to them. He really did. He _was_ sorry about what had happened to his uncle. And he wanted to pay his respects properly. But—

But now all he could notice was how many of his relatives were staring at him.

And a few were _definitely_ whispering _._

And giggling.

He was pretty certain he was going to follow Uncle Bernhard to an early grave via death by mortification.

And then it was time for the funeral boat to be carried outside to set alight. And just like that, with no warning at all, like it was _completely normal_ Hearth slipped his hand into Blitz’s.

He tried really hard to ignore the way his heart thudded clumsily at the contact.

_I’m just keyed up because funerals are emotional_ , Blitz insisted to himself. _That’s all. Hearth touches me all the time. This isn’t different. It’s not like he means anything by it. He’s just doing me a favor._

_Hearth isn’t acting like anything’s changed._

_…Why do_ I _feel different?_

_It’s just in my head._

And he most certainly didn’t mean to be disrespectful when he failed to pay any attention whatsoever to the torching of the boat. But how could he concentrate under circumstances like these? There was no going back now, _everyone_ had seen them holding hands. He’d just ousted himself from a closet he hadn’t even known he was in. And he hadn’t had a chance to talk to anyone yet so he had no idea what they would think. Would they be as pleased as Aunt Bótví? Or would some of the family be disappointed in him for it? Would they actually believe it at all? Maybe someone would want them to prove it. Maybe he’d have to kiss Hearth or something. Oh Helheim, he hadn’t even thought of that! They should have planned this out better. They should have set some ground rules and boundaries! Would Hearthstone be upset if Blitzen kissed him? Just how far had Hearth been willing to ‘go along with it’?

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait. Back up a minute.

Blitz wanted to smack himself.

Why in the Nine Worlds would anyone want him to prove he was in a relationship? Who would be that suspicious? Had he ever asked any of his cousins to prove anything when he’d been introduced to their significant others? Of course not. On what planet would anyone force him to kiss Hearth to keep up their act? He was being totally insane. Why had his brain even gone there? Of course they wouldn’t have to do that. Heck, they didn’t even need to hold hands really. All it would really take was them standing next to each other and his aunt’s gossip would take care of the rest. If even _that_ was necessary. Hearth had mentioned that he thought people assumed that anyway. Was that true? Why hadn’t he noticed? Did _everyone_ think that? For how long had everyone been thinking that? Why hadn’t Hearth ever mentioned that before!

The boat was burning spectacularly now. Hearthstone was watching it, seemingly enraptured. Blitz tried to watch it too, but his eyes kept drifting back to Hearth. His pale skin was practically alight from the glow of the flames. He looked ethereal, more like the kind of idealized elves of olden times that Hearth admired so much. Blitz had never really shared Hearth’s obsession with old-timey stuff (he was definitely more of a mid-century modern type of guy,) but he suddenly saw the appeal. At least a little bit—as in, at least as far as it could be applied to Hearth. Hearthstone could really pull off the magical romantic thing, honestly.

Speaking of which, he should probably stop staring at Hearth….

…Or maybe not? He had an excuse. They were pretending to be a couple. Couples stared at each other all the time. In fact, so long as they were pretending to be together, he really _ought_ to stare. Right. He was just doing his part to keep up the act. To make things simpler. So Hearth wouldn’t get any grief from his family. Right. He was doing this _for_ Hearth. Absolutely. Glad he got that cleared up.

He unabashedly continued staring at Hearth.

The more he stared at Hearth though the more he realized it was probably a bad idea to be staring. Because the more he stared at Hearth the harder it got to banish the thought he’d had about the possibility of having to kiss Hearth. And being unable to look at your best friend without being able to think about kissing them is definitely an awkward situation.

It’s not like he actually _wanted_ to kiss Hearth or anything. It had just been a stray idea. One of those pesky stray ideas that sort of stick and won’t drift away. Like when he used fabric that shed linty bits all over the place and no amount of vacuuming would get rid of all the evidence. It’s not like he was trying to have wads of fluff stuck in his carpet for weeks. He didn’t _mean_ to turn his apartment into something that looked like a stuffed animal massacre. It was just the price he had to pay for making a really awesome faux fur coat. Obsessively thinking about making out with Hearthstone was just the inevitable consequence of fooling his aunt. Wait. When had his curious pondering of a theoretical kiss-under-scrutiny turned into a full on make-out fantasy?

He let go of Hearth’s hand; suddenly disturbed by the very rapid downward spiral his brain was taking with his current situation. Hearth turned and looked at him questioningly. Blitz immediately regretted the loss of contact. Holding Hearth’s hand had been surprisingly grounding and comfortable. And he didn’t like the idea of Hearth thinking that he hadn’t liked holding it. He wished he hadn’t let go and so he feigned having to stretch and then (not even a little bit subtly) reached and wrapped his arm back around Hearth. For a heartbeat Blitz wondered if he’d already overstepped his bounds but then Hearth leaned into him and went back to watching the burning ship.

_This is nice_ , Blitz’s brain supplied unhelpfully. _I could get used to things being like this._

_Too bad it’s only going to last for a few hours._

_Although it doesn’t have to. Hearth did agree to keep this going for other family events._

_Maybe I could talk a couple of my relatives into having some parties._

_If we do that though, they’ll expect things to escalate. Aunt Bótví was already talking about weddings. Would we get sucked so far down this rabbit hole we’d have to fake one of those too?_

_Faking a wedding would be really fun._

_I wouldn’t just have to design the outfits, but all the table settings and floral arrangements too! And everything would have to be color coordinated. I love color coordinating._

_What would our color theme be? Red and white? No, not white. Gray maybe. Like Hearth’s eyes. Hearth’s eyes are a pretty amazing shade of pale slate. I’ve always thought that color would look good on a sweater. I should get on that project. When we get back to my studio I should start experimenting with gray dyes and...._

_Whoah. Blitzen. Put on the brakes. What am I even_ thinking _?_

_Planning entire wardrobes to match your friend’s eyes and designing weddings that are never going to happen is not healthy._

_What is wrong with me? This funeral is really messing with my head._

Blitz glanced up at Hearth again and this time there was no ignoring the very obvious way his heart began to speed up.

He was definitely in trouble.

* * *

Hearthstone couldn’t stop berating himself.

He was such a terrible friend!

Here they were, dealing with a tragedy, his best friend emotionally compromised, and what had he done? Completely taken advantage of Blitzen!

He couldn’t believe he’d let himself suggest that. He knew it was an awful suggestion. He knew he shouldn’t have said it. It’s just—well, he honestly hadn’t expected Blitz to agree.

He just hadn’t quite been able to stop himself. He’d been harboring a crush on Blitzen for so long now that he couldn’t even quite remember when it had started. And any time someone mistakenly inferred that they were together (which definitely happened way more than Blitz apparently realized. Even Samirah had made a comment to that effect when they’d been hiding from Ratatosk,) Hearth’s heart did this obnoxiously giddy skipping thing. And having the mistaken assumption be made by one of Blitz’s own family members was just a little bit too much. He hadn’t been able to stop his masochistic brain from throwing out any suggestion he could think of to hang on to that feeling, even if it was totally fake and would ultimately, in the long run, just make him feel worse.

But really, he never ever would have guessed that Blitz would _agree_.

Blitz should have been smarter than that. It was a _terrible_ suggestion!

People were going to ask questions. They’d want to know how long they were together. They’d want to hear stories about how it had happened. The lies Blitz would need to invent and remember would just pile up. Then they’d either have to admit to everyone that they were lying or stage some sort of break-up. And the thought of breaking up with Blitz nearly made Hearth physically ill, never mind that the relationship they’d be breaking off had never existed in the first place.

How was any of that easier than just telling everyone that Aunt Bótví had made a mistake?

It wasn’t, obviously. And he’d known that at the time. He’d just selfishly decided to take advantage of a rare opportunity to get closer to Blitzen.

What kind of friend even did that?

A horrible one, that’s what.

His guilt must have been really apparent too, because Blitzen kept staring at him and giving him strange looks. Was he already regretting going along with this? Probably.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” Blitz was suddenly asking him. “You’re looking kind of peaky.”

_I’m fine_ , Hearth signed. It was only sort of a lie. He was physically fine at least.

“Maybe we should head out,” Blitz continued, his eyes darting all over the place, scrutinizing Hearth’s appearance. “It’s been a while since you clocked any daylight. We should get you in the sunbed before you get sick.”

_Of course_ , Hearth couldn’t help thinking. _He wants to cut this short and end the charade as soon as possible. I shouldn’t have expected it to last. He wants to get me far away from everyone. He regrets this._

_I’m fine, but we can go if you want_ , Hearth signed.

He tried to ignore the irrational spike of disappointment that cut through him as Blitz nodded for them to go.

He selfishly kept holding Blitz’s hand all the way back to his apartment. Blitz was kind and didn’t question it.

* * *

Breakfast was awkward.

Blitzen wasn’t sure where exactly things stood between them now. They were still in Nidavellier…so should they keep up with pretending? They were alone now though, so there wasn’t really a point to that, was there? …Unless someone unexpectedly burst in on them. Maybe they should keep the act up just in case. It wouldn’t hurt to be extra careful, right?

Blitz glanced at the door. He _never_ got unexpected visitors. He didn’t spend a lot of time in his apartment in Nidavellier, and so it wasn’t very central to his social life. The few people who’d want to see him had already seen him yesterday at the funeral. The chance of one of them dropping by to see him again so soon seemed slim.

But there _was_ a chance….

He made eye contact with Hearth, ready to throw out that suggestion but stopped in his tracks.

Hearth looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Usually he emerged from his sessions in the tanning bed looking rested and invigorated. But today he actually looked worse than he had the night before. There were dark circles ringing his eyes and his skin had an ashy hue to it.

_Are you feeling sick?_ Blitz signed to him in alarm.

_No_ , Hearth replied. _I’m fine_.

_You don’t look fine_.

_Just tired,_ signed Hearth. _Trouble sleeping_.

_Something wrong?_

Hearth shook his head but then lightly shrugged.

_What’s wrong?_ Blitz continued to probe.

_Just a lot on my mind_ , explained Hearth. _Death. Families. Stuff._ He shrugged again.

Blitzen frowned. He shouldn’t have asked Hearth to come. He knew that anything relating to families tended to be a bit of an emotional obstacle course for Hearth. He should have known that adding a funeral to the mix would be taxing on his friend. Hearth had been very thoughtful to offer to come with him, but he probably shouldn’t have taken him up on the offer. And then he’d gone and let them make things even more complicated…. Yikes. What had he been thinking?

_Want to talk about it?_ Blitz asked.

Hearth just shook his head. His eyes held Blitz’s gaze for just a few seconds longer than usual and then they abruptly darted down to stare at his coffee (which was in a mug with an arrow pattern all over it that Blitz had made and kept around specifically for when Hearth was visiting. No one else was allowed to use it. Because…well, just _because_.)

Since he apparently wasn’t going to get any insight on the specifics of what was bothering Hearth, Blitzen coped by making twice as much breakfast as either of them could eat and filling Hearth’s plate with an obscenely tall stack of pancakes. Then he sat and awkwardly watched Hearth poke at it without managing to actually eat much. He tried to eat his own stack of pancakes but found that he didn’t have much of an appetite either when he was worrying about Hearth. So he ended up drinking four cups of coffee while pretending to read the newspaper (but really he was just looking over the top of it and regarding his companion.)

The excessive caffeine consumption made Blitz so jumpy that when the doorbell unexpectedly rang he tripped over his chair in a spastic dive to answer it.

“HELLO!” he announced in a manic voice as he flung the door open. He’d expected to find one of his cousins on the other side. Or maybe a neighbor. The dwarf who greeted him wasn’t anyone he recognized however. (He was wearing a pretty snappy pinstripe suit though, Blitz noticed appreciatively.)

“Is this the residence of Blitzen, son of Freya?” asked sharp-suit-guy.

“Yeah,” said Blitzen. “You’re looking at him.”

“Andvari, son of Jóra.” Andvari held out his hand to Blitz. “I’m a lawyer representing the estate of Bernhard, son of Biargrey. May I come in to discuss the execution of his will?”

Blitz gaped. Uncle Bernhard had put him in his will? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d talked to his uncle. It had probably been at his dad’s memorial service (Fenris hadn’t left enough of him for it to be possible to have a proper funeral with an actual body.) With the extensive size of his family, it never would have occurred to him that he’d be anywhere on his uncle’s radar, let alone make the cut into a will.

“Yes! Yes of course. Please come in.”

Blitzen herded the lawyer to the kitchen table. “It’s nice to meet you Andvari. This is Hearthstone, my—” Blitz tripped up realizing that he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. He’d actually come very close to accidently saying ‘my fiancé’ because…well, he still hadn’t quite let go of the trippy high he’d gotten from the game of pretend they’d played the previous evening, and he had spent a little too much time since then obsessing over the idea of Hearth in a red silk cummerbund. But obviously _that_ would have been taking things too far (at least without further discussion with Hearth on the topic first.) He wasn’t even sure though if he should say something more toned down, like ‘boyfriend.’ Were they still pretending? Did a lawyer count? Was the act only for direct family members? Blitz didn’t know. And given Hearth’s drastically different mood this morning, he wasn’t going to assume he was still up for the act anyway. Maybe he’d had a change of heart overnight and his bad mood was due to not wanting to tell Blitz and disappoint him.

“—My elf,” he finished awkwardly instead.

He cringed as the words left his mouth.

_‘My elf’?_ Blitz thought in dismay. _I just said that in the exact same way you’d announce your cat. What do I think Hearth is, my pet? That sounded terrible._

He fervently hoped that Hearthstone was still distractedly poking at his pancakes and not paying attention to the conversation.

(Of course Hearth was paying attention though. He almost always was.)

Blitz’s cringe deepened as he caught Hearth’s startled expression from across the table.

“Why don’t you take a seat on Rump-Recess, this fine specimen of minimalist futurism, made by Oscar, son of Hilda, who lives down the street, built per my own design and specifications in exchange for a double-breasted sports jacket.” He started spewing formalities in an attempt to bury his verbal misstep about Hearth. “Would you like some coffee?”

The lawyer nodded and sat down on the molded fiberglass chair that Blitzen pulled out for him. He opened his briefcase and extracted a small wooden box, accompanied by a manila folder filled with documents.

Blitz grabbed a mug for the lawyer and quickly filled it up. He was about to start reciting its name and (not terribly interesting) history when Andvari opening the box distracted him.

“I didn’t know that Uncle Bernhard made jewelry,” he exclaimed in surprise.

“I believe these are just a few heirlooms he’d acquired, not his personal handiwork,” answered the lawyer, accepting the cup of coffee from Blitz. “Per the instructions in his will, he desired you to be given the contents of this box. He noted that with your interest in fashion you were likely the relative who would be most appreciative.”

Blitzen visibly brightened. “Really!” he exclaimed. “I had no idea that any of my family actually appreciated my appreciation of fashion! Is there anything I have to do for this? Are any of my cousins going to be upset?”

“I just need you to sign a few documents. The majority of your uncle’s fortune consisted of red gold ingots, to which the other family members have taken a much deeper interest. I’m afraid your share of the estate is quite small, considering.”

“That’s okay,” said Blitz cheerfully. “I wasn’t expecting anything, it’s nice he even thought of me.”

He signed off on the paperwork and the lawyer politely dismissed himself without bothering with much small talk. Once he’d left, Hearthstone moved over from across the table to sit next to Blitz and watch him go through the box. Blitzen was relieved at that, he’d been a little worried he was going to act distant for the rest of the day.

There were a few gold chains in the box, of varying gauges; A brooch with a large amethyst stone in the center; a silver hat-pin; an assortment of glass beads; a chunky interwoven bronze torque; and a thick gold ring with very finely crafted scrollwork carved into the band.

Blitz picked up the ring and inspected it.

“Wow, this is pretty nice,” he commented as he turned the ring about in the light. “That’s some really high level artistry right there.”

_Impressive_ , signed Hearth, nodding in appreciation.

“I wonder who made it?” On a whim he tried sticking it on his finger.

The ring not only fit him perfectly but felt surprisingly comfortable on his hand; a warmth almost seemed to radiate out of it and Blitz suddenly felt more energetic than he had mere moments before. He had only intended to try it on and then put it back in the box. But once on his finger he was seized by a strange reluctance to remove it.

“Well it’s not my usual style, but it’s certainly a classic,” he found himself muttering as he stared at his hand. “I think I’ll wear it a while in good old Uncle Bernhard’s memory.”

_Looks good on you_ , Hearth agreed.

“Thanks buddy!” Blitz pushed the box closer to Hearth. “If you see anything in there that you’d like you can have it.”

Hearth raised an eyebrow and picked up the amethyst brooch, holding it up as if to fasten to his scarf. He gave Blitz a very skeptical look before setting it back down in the box.

_Jewelry’s not really my thing_ , he signed. _But thanks._

“Too flashy,” Blitz agreed. “You don’t need it.”

Hearth blinked and regarded him for a moment. He started to lift his hand as if to say something, but then redirected it to the table where he picked up his fork instead and started absently tapping it on his plate.

_Good pancakes_ , he finally stopped to comment.

He’d barely taken two bites of them.

* * *

A little over a week went by, and Blitz tried to go back to normal, but it was hard. Something had definitely shifted between them the night of the funeral and he still couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

On the one hand, he was finding himself being more attentive towards Hearth than ever before. That was good, right? He was really appreciating the depth of their friendship and just how much Hearth meant to him. Which was an awful lot, honestly. He’d never had another friend who understood him so well, or liked him so unconditionally. Meeting Hearth really had been one of the best things to ever happen to him.

On the flipside though, being more attentive to Hearth also meant he was picking up on just how extensively the awkwardness of that night still seemed to cling to them. There was hesitancy in Hearth’s interactions with Blitz that had never been there before. Stress lines appeared on his face more often (which was saying a lot, because Hearth wasn’t exactly the most carefree person Blitz knew.)

Blitz tried apologizing, assuming he’d made Hearth uncomfortable at the funeral, but Hearth wouldn’t hear it. He’d very adamantly insisted that everything was fine.

Everything was clearly _not_ fine, but no amount of asking Hearth yielded any further information.

He could only focus on dissecting those things that were not fine with _himself_ : namely, that his interfering aunt’s careless comments had unlocked awareness that he’d probably been better off keeping repressed; he couldn’t really ignore the way he’d enjoyed pretending to be Hearth’s significant other a little too thoroughly; he’d agreed too fast to Hearth’s suggestion; he’d wanted to keep it going a lot longer than necessary; he’d been way too sorry when it was time to stop.

As the week crawled by it was getting harder for Blitz to convince himself that he hadn’t wished the whole thing had been real.

Scratch that: he _still_ wanted it to be real.

Which was terribly inconvenient what with Hearth suddenly pulling away from him and acting like Blitz made him nervous and uncomfortable.

It had been a pretty lousy week, honestly.

He’d been coping by throwing himself into his work. He’d designed a whole new array of patterned dress socks with matching ties and pocket squares. He’d also added four new winter coat styles to his outwear selection. The ball gown he was currently in the process of embroidering was probably going to be his most show-stopping piece yet. He couldn’t wait to get the new display up in his storefront, so he’d been working pretty much around the clock to finish it. He was finally sewing the last few sequins on and the triumphant glow of a project well completed was starting to take hold. Or was at least trying to, if the dissatisfaction of not having Hearth hanging around nearby for immediate feedback wasn’t throwing off his mojo.

Instead of basking in his accomplishment, Blitz dropped his sewing needle with a sigh.

_I’m just overtired from working too hard_ , he tried to convince himself. _I’ll just turn in. Everything will look better after a good night’s sleep_.

* * *

A good night’s sleep proved to be more elusive than he’d hoped. Blitz tossed and turned for most of the night, plagued by unsettling dreams where Hearth was a used car salesman and all of his cars had eight wheels. Blitz kept trying to take one out for a test drive but they always broke down in front of Aunt Bótví’s house. His aunt had a baffling preoccupation with collecting enamel cat figurines, and Blitz kept accidentally stepping on them when he went inside to borrow her phone (although who was he even expecting to call? It’s not like Hearth could answer a phone call…his dreams never made any sense.) His dream ended from him sitting down on her sofa where a particularly pointy gilded cat managed to poke him into consciousness.

Blitz’s eyes snapped open.

…Something was still poking him.

He rolled over only to find himself being attacked by hard pokey things from multiple directions.

Blitz had no choice but to throw the covers back and spring out of bed.

He wasn’t sure what to expect to find in his bed but a scattering of gold rings was definitely not it.

He picked one up and inspected it carefully. It was an exact duplicate of the one still on his finger. Closer inspection revealed that _all_ of the inexplicable rings were precise copies of the one he’d received from his uncle. There were eight of them.

His cousin’s ominous statement came back to him: _He’d gotten really rich right before the accident, like, crazy rich. No one knows how. Seems a little suspicious, don’t you think?_

Blitzen suddenly had an inkling of where Uncle Bernhard’s mysterious fortune had come from.

He scrambled into some clothes, not taking even half the time and care he usually put into dressing. If he’d been going pretty much anywhere other than Hearth’s room he’d have been horrified at his sloppiness, but he wanted to show the rings to Hearth, and Hearthstone was the one person who got a pass on seeing Blitz’s appearance as less than pristine. He knew him well enough to not judge or assume.

Hearth was still asleep. He slept almost twice as much as Blitz did due to how much his magic use drained him, so that was hardly a surprise. Blitz hovered for a moment, debating whether or not he should wake his friend up. (Okay, it was only partly that he was debating whether or not he should wake Hearth up. A bit of ogling might have been involved too.)

Finally he poked Hearth awake (it took a fairly substantial amount of poking, Hearth was very resistant to waking up.) And the fluttery butterfly-like feeling in his stomach as Hearth blearily looked at him all dazed with sleep was probably just a figment of his imagination. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t actually feeling that.

_Something wrong?_ Asked Hearth, sitting up.

Blitz just held out his handful of gold rings.

Hearth picked one up and held it up close to his face, turning it to inspect it from all sides. He frowned and then rather unexpectedly grabbed Blitz’s hand pulling it close to his face as well and holding the duplicate ring next to the one on Blitz’s finger.

Hearth’s fingers were warm and lithe and totally not making the non-existent butterflies in Blitz’s stomach speed up in their non-existent flapping.

_They’re copies_ , gestured Hearth, letting go of Blitz’s hand (to Blitz’s disappointment.)

“I know, weird right? They just appeared overnight.”

_I think I’ve heard of this before, doesn’t Odin have a ring that multiplies?_

Blitz pondered that. “Hm, that does sound familiar, actually.”

_D-R-A-U-P-N-I-R_ spelled out Hearth. _I think that was its name_.

“Do you think that’s what this is?” asked Blitz, holding out his hand and wiggling his finger with the ring. “Odin’s ring?”

Hearth shrugged.

“How would Uncle Bernhard have gotten Odin’s Draupnir?”

Hearth shrugged again.

“Do you think having this is going to get me in trouble with Odin?” he continued to wonder aloud.

_No idea_ , signed Hearth.

“Huh,” said Blitz, absently rubbing his beard. “I’m not sure what to make of this. What am I even supposed to do with eight identical rings?”

_You could put them in your shop_ , suggested Hearth.

“Hm.” Blitz considered that. “That’s an idea.” He stared down at the rings in his hand. The thing that he most wanted to do was to give one of them to Hearth. But he suspected that that wouldn’t go over terribly well, considering that only a few days ago Hearth had specifically stated that he didn’t care for jewelry. He’d probably just make everything more complicated and awkward if he tried.

Of course, making things complicated and awkward was something he was pretty good at. He was really excelling at that lately, honestly. Why break a perfect streak.

“You should keep one,” he said before his brain could stop his mouth from moving. “I mean, like, you don’t have to wear it or anything—ha ha—yeah, no, that would be kind of weird if we were wearing matching rings right? I’m not saying you have to do that ’cause it might be kind of weird. You don’t have to! But it’s probably valuable, right? So you should take one. Or all of them. Do you want all of them? Here.” He thrust the handful of gold back at Hearth.

Hearth gave him a confused look. _You should put them in your shop_ , he repeated. _They’re beautiful. People will like them. It will help your business._

Blitz’s brain just latched onto the fact that Hearth apparently thought they were beautiful. That wasn’t exactly the most indifferent description in the world, was it? Did that mean he liked them even if jewelry ‘wasn’t his thing’?

“I have eight!” Blitz insisted. “It will hardly make a difference if I put seven in the shop instead of eight. Just take one.”

Hearth continued to stare at Blitz’s outstretched hands for a while, seemingly frozen. He finally tentatively reached out and picked one up, slipping it into his pocket.

Blitz was only mildly disappointed he didn’t put it on.

* * *

Business had already been booming, but the rings were certainly a hit and Blitzen’s sales crept even higher. He sold out of them within the week, and many customers had made inquiries to his source for such detailed gold-smithing, to which he remained persistently vague.

The fact that they sold out wasn’t a problem though, because nine days later he’d awoken to find eight more duplicate rings. Which _also_ sold out, only to be replaced again in an additional nine days. The ring apparently kept multiplying like clockwork, and due to the exquisite quality of its craftsmanship Blitz could barely keep them on the shelves. His golden rings eventually made it into a local fashion blog, and Blitz found himself at the center of Boston’s latest upper class fashion craze.

Blitz was a little torn over the whole thing, not sure whether to be glad about his shop’s added success or annoyed that the explosion of popularity was due to a product he hadn’t personally designed. But although the new customers were flocking in to see the rings, they were also leaving with a lot more. Sales of Blitzen’s clothing lines were climbing just as fast as the jewelry. It was actually becoming difficult for his production to keep up with the demand. He was staying up later and later frantically sewing, and he was seriously considering the need to start outsourcing some of the labor.

Maybe if he hadn’t been overtiring himself so much he would have noticed the suspicious character that entered his shop one day. He might have picked up on the way the man’s eyes were nervously darting about, or how he lurked in the back of the shop until it had emptied of other customers. Unfortunately, instead of picking up on all of these things, Blitzen was struggling to keep his eyes open; daydreaming about some new things he could try with contrasting bias stitching.

The press of a gun barrel to the side of his head certainly woke him up.

“Empty the register,” growled a voice in Blitzen’s ear.

Blitz froze, dropping the valet tray he’d been rearranging. “Help yourself. I don’t want any trouble.”

He tried to stay calm but internally Blitz was freaking out a bit.

_Odin’s eye! Why don’t I have anything I could use as a weapon on hand? Why didn’t I notice this guy coming? What if Hearth comes in? He won’t be able to hear what’s going on! He could just walk right into this mess!_

“Just empty the register.”

Blitz slowly put his hands up and turned towards the cash register, intending to do whatever the thug demanded.

He caught a flash of black and red out of the corner of his eye. Hearth _had_ unknowingly walked into this mess. And he was walking right towards them! His eyes were wide and desperate looking and he had a piece of a metal display rack in his hands, which he was raising like to swing a baseball bat. What was he doing?!

Blitzen shook his head frantically, the desire to stop Hearth from interfering overriding his own instinct for preservation.

Shaking your head when there was a gun pressed against it is never a good idea.

Blitz’s consciousness exploded into blackness.

* * *

Blitzen woke up to an ocean of beige.

His first thought was, _these walls could really use some artwork on them. A nice large statement painting would really improve this room._

His second thought was, _wait, how am I alive right now?_

His third, much more urgent thought was, _where’s Hearth?!_

Blitz sprung up, his spastic action rewarding him with nauseating dizziness. His head throbbed and for a moment he nearly threw up. As his bearings returned though his question was immediately answered: Hearth was right next to him, sprawled out on the beige duvet he’d been lying on. Recognition finally clicked into place and Blitz realized that they were in Magnus’s room, on Magnus’s bed. But why was Hearth unconscious? What had happened?

Crippling panic seized him as he rushed to inspect the elf. _Was he even alive? Had he been shot?_

He couldn’t find any evidence of injury on Hearth. Apparently he was simply deeply asleep. Blitz placed his hand on Hearth’s chest to check that he was breathing, and found, once it was confirmed that he was, that he didn’t want to move away. He left his fingers splayed across his friend for several minutes, allowing his panic to slowly seep out with each reassuring rise and fall of Hearth’s chest.

He probably would have stayed like that for hours if Magnus hadn’t walked into the bedroom alcove.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” said Magnus cheerfully. “I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to ask the hotel staff to send up another bed.”

“Wait, how long have we been here?” asked Blitz in surprise.

“Three and a half days,” replied Magnus casually.

“Balder’s bling! I’ve been out that long?”

“Well, you were in kind of bad shape,” said Magnus. “I had to do a lot of healing magic on you. I’m actually impressed you’re conscious already.”

“What happened?”

“I was hoping _you_ could tell _me_ ,” said Magnus. “Hearth collapsed as soon as you guys arrived, so I haven’t exactly been able to ask any questions.”

“Was he hurt?” Blitz gave Hearth another panicked glance.

“No, I think he just depleted all his strength doing magic. He must have cast some runes to keep you stable until he could bring you here, you were bleeding a lot.”

“I think I got shot in the head,” said Blitz. He brought his hand up to rub at the side of his (miraculously intact) skull.

“That’s certainly how it looked to me,” agreed Magnus grimly.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Blitz. “We’re in Valhalla right now. It _is_ because you healed me, right? Not that we’re—” his eyes slid back to Hearth once more, “— _dead_ , right? No, no, wait.” He answered his own question. “I wasn’t holding a weapon. I wouldn’t have made it here. Hearth though—”

Hearth _had_ been holding a weapon. He was a perfectly good candidate for Valhalla. They couldn’t be dead since they were currently still together. But if they _had_ both died…they wouldn’t have gone to the same place. Blitz would be looking at an eternity of never seeing Hearth again.

As the reality of just how close he came to that happening sunk in, the dizzying nausea came back. This time the urge to throw up won.

“Thank the gods for room service,” quipped Magnus. Then, more seriously he added, “You’re both still alive. Hearth brought you here so I could heal you. You wouldn’t have ended up in my room if you were dead.”

Blitz remained doubled over, fighting off the sensation that the walls were closing in on him. The word _forever_ echoing through his head.

_No Hearth._

_Forever_.

It was honestly the most terrifying thought he’d ever had. Sure, he’d never been very keen on the concept of dying, but the idea had never paralyzed him like this before.

When he finally managed to calm his nerves enough to sit back up, Blitz couldn’t stop himself from grabbing Hearth’s hand. He had a sudden attack of anxiety that Hearth could slip out of his life (or afterlife, if the case may be,) if he didn’t physically anchor himself to him.

“Sorry,” he choked out to Magnus.

“Dude, you almost got yourself turned into swiss cheese,” Magnus reminded him. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I’m just glad to see you conscious. And still able to talk and stuff.”

“I’m pretty surprised to be conscious right now, honestly,” Blitz agreed. “I’m not sure how even all of yours and Hearth’s magic was enough to fix what I think happened.”

“Well, it didn’t look like you were hit straight on, more like at an angle and to the side,” explained Magnus. “And the bullet went straight through. And Hearth definitely slammed you with some pretty powerful magic as soon as it happened, so you got kind of lucky. I’ve been getting a lot better with my healing magic too, I’ve been practicing a lot.”

“Thanks,” said Blitz sincerely.

“Do you know who shot you?” asked Magnus.

“Just some random guy who tried to rob me.” Blitz shrugged. “The whole thing was horribly stupid.”

Magnus nodded. After having spent the time they had together living on the streets, Blitz knew Magnus was all too familiar with the unexpected brutality that could catch you off-guard on a seemingly average day.

Blitzen watched as Magnus’s attention drifted from eye contact down to Blitzen’s body language, landing on his hand entwined with Hearthstone’s. He raised an eyebrow.

“Is there, erm, something you guys haven’t told me yet?” he asked.

Blitzen shook his head (and then immediately regretted the movement as a spike of pain blossomed on the tender side.)

“No!” he insisted. “Not at all. It’s not like that. _We’re_ not like that. I just—”

“—Haven’t told him?” Magnus finished insightfully.

Blitzen sighed. He could tell from the look in Magnus’s eyes that there wasn’t any point in trying to lie about this. Magnus _knew_. Fortunately he could also trust Magnus not to say anything about it to anyone else. Yeah, he could trust him. Magnus was a good kid.

He cringed internally as his brain reminded him that Magnus wasn’t really a kid anymore. Magnus was _dead_. And he’d had a hand in that.

“It’s complicated,” muttered Blitz, keeping his eyes trained on Hearth and not Magnus.

“You should probably tell him,” replied Magnus. “It might not have to be as complicated as you think.”

“It’s definitely complicated,” Blitz disagreed.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nah,” said Blitz. Then he looked up and caught Magnus’s eyes. They were a lot more sympathetic then he was expecting. He remembered asking Hearth that same question and how frustrating it had felt when Hearth shut him out. Oh, what the Helheim, Magnus was pretty easy to talk to.

“Actually,” he added, “Yeah, I guess. We went to a funeral a little while ago, one of my uncles died, right? And one of my aunts got the wrong idea when she saw the two of us together. And—we didn’t correct her; we just sort of went along with it to avoid the drama, right? Yeah. But Hearth’s been kind of distant and detached ever since. I think the whole thing might have weirded him out. I can’t risk making him more uncomfortable than he already is, what if he starts outright avoiding me? I just want things to go back to the way they used to be.”

Magnus frowned. “That’s rough. Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“You bet I have,” sighed Blitz. “He’s pretending everything is fine.”

“I’m having a pretty hard time picturing Hearth as detached from you, honestly,” said Magnus, his eyes darting between his two friends.

“I know, right? The past couple of weeks have _sucked_.”

“I still think you should tell him,” said Magnus seriously. “I really can’t imagine Hearth avoiding you. Not unless it was like, opposite day or something. You’re his favorite person.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t assume that,” mumbled Blitz, looking down at the comforter. “He’s pretty fond of you and Samirah. And now he’s gotten all chummy with the All-Father even and—” he glanced up to catch Magnus leveling him with a ‘really? Are you _really_ even going to try to argue that?’ face.

“Okay, maybe I _was_ ,” Blitz conceded. “But who knows if that’s even true anymore. He’s been acting different lately.”

“He’s not going to avoid you though,” Magnus stated confidently. “I’m pretty sure he’d move back to Alfheim before he’d abandon you. You guys are inseparable. You’re like—well you guys always reminded me of like, the Tenth Doctor and Rose or something.”

Blitz grimaced. “Yeah, _super_. That sure makes me feel better! Those two got separated and never saw each other again.”

Magnus blanched. “Um, yeah, okay. Bad example maybe. Wow, you’ve seen that? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fan. I would have picked a different example if I’d known you’d actually seen that.”

“Hearth and I watched it so we’d be able to follow all the references you were always making,” explained Blitz. “You quote that show a lot, you know.”

Magnus grinned sheepishly, clearly pleased that his friends had invested that much time in trying to get to know him better. “ _See_!” he said, gesturing broadly at Hearth’s comatose form and then at Blitz. “You guys watched it _together_. Like you do _everything_ , because the universe would probably implode or something if you guys weren’t glued at the hip. I wasn’t referring to how things ended for them when I made that comparison. Just the way they felt about each other! Whatever you tell him, it’s going to be okay.”

Blitzen let out a very deep sigh and gave Magnus a regretful look. “I just can’t risk it though.”

* * *

Hearth woke up a few hours later but Magnus wouldn’t let them leave for another couple of days. He kept insisting that they both would benefit from some additional sessions of his healing alf seider. (Blitz suspected this wasn’t really the case at all, and Magnus was actually hoping to nudge them into some kind of a confession.)

And sure enough, instead of having them rest, Magnus kept foisting activities on them. Like playing video games (“to make sure your motor skills have fully recovered.”) And watching movies (“to check that your concentration wasn’t permanently damaged.”) And of course, Magnus almost always conveniently remembered in the middle of whatever they were doing that he’d forgotten something and had to duck out, leaving Blitzen and Hearthstone completely alone.

Yeah, Magnus had all the subtlety of a brick to the face.

If it had been just a few weeks ago, this would have been _great_. Blitz wouldn’t have been second-guessing his friends’ motives or feelings. He would have positively relished spending so much time with Hearth, free of responsibilities or obligations. But now there was definitely an undercurrent of tension between them, and no amount of I-am-so-relieved-you’re-still-alive hugs or imposed bonding exercises could totally erase that.

And all that would have been bad enough, but then there were the sleeping arrangements.

No one was terribly shocked when Magnus called dibs on his couch (“I’ve already slept here for the past three days, it just makes more sense for you guys to keep the bed,”) but that didn’t stop both Hearth and Blitz from objecting. Magnus of course wouldn’t hear it (“don’t be stupid, this bed is like twice as big as any tent you guys have shared, there’s plenty of room.”)

In the end Blitz had ended up agreeing, only because he knew that insisting too vehemently that he wouldn’t would actually be more suspicious than going along with it. Because Magnus was right, in the past neither of them would have thought twice about sharing a bed. Over the course of their adventures he and Hearth had wedged themselves into much smaller confines than Magnus’s ridiculously expansive luxury bed. They’d shared tents and tree branches, alcoves behind dumpsters and even the occasional (highly sought after) discarded refrigerator box. He’d always enjoyed it too; Hearth being there made the more uncomfortable arrangements a lot more bearable.

He knew Magnus was trying to be helpful, but it was pretty much the opposite of helping. How was he supposed to sleep when all he could think about was the fact that Hearth was a mere ten inches away? And about just how easy it would be for him roll over and hug him? Or how just a short time ago, Hearth probably would have been totally okay with that, but now it would almost certainly be crossing a line that would make Hearth uncomfortable. And of course, back when it had been okay, it hadn’t really occurred to Blitz to do that so much. His timing sucked.

Of course, the size of the bed was pretty much irrelevant. Although he required a large quantity of it, Hearth had never been a very peaceful sleeper; he was frequently plagued by uneasy dreams about his parents and brother. And sometimes his magic casting left him with an energy backlash that led him to be jumpy and agitated for hours afterwards. His restlessness generally caused him to expand to fill pretty much any space he fell asleep in. The bed might have been king sized but within an hour of Hearth falling asleep he’d tossed and turned until he was taking up three-fourths of the mattress. Blitzen diligently inched closer to the edge of the bed until he could not go any farther. When he ran out of space he turned on his side so that _he_ took up less space.

Trying to move out of the way was pointless though. Hearth just thrashed around until he inevitably ended up scrunched up against Blitz’s back.

Blitz did his best to ignore just how much he liked the solid warmth of Hearth’s body pressing against him. Or how soothing it was to feel the steady rise and fall of Hearth’s breathing. He reminded himself that Hearth was _asleep_ and had no control over his movements. He definitely wasn’t seeking Blitz out intentionally. And the fact that his restlessness seemed to calm down once he’d smashed into Blitz was probably just a coincidence.    

He couldn’t afford to read into that.

Blitz didn’t get much sleep that night. Or any of the nights they spent with Magnus.

* * *

Things sort of went back to normal once Magnus begrudgingly allowed them to leave. Hearth returned to studying when he wasn’t helping Blitz around his shop. Blitz went back to frantically stocking his shelves as fast as he could make things. The rings kept magically appearing every nine days, and people continued to buy them. Blitz also rigged up some new higher tech security cameras around his store. Hearth took to carrying his staff around with him even when he was just doing minor chores, like bringing Blitzen lunch or filling display baskets with socks.

Blitzen didn’t realize, but Hearth was having a bit of a crisis trying to figure out how to balance his time. The attack in the store had very deeply shaken him. He couldn’t so much as close his eyes without the horror of watching Blitz get shot replay in a constant loop of vivid detail. The biting pain of almost losing Blitz hit him over and over again, still as sharply fresh in memory as it had been in action. He decided to focus more on the defensive side of rune magic, and resolved to increase his studying dramatically. The problem with studying though was that it kept him apart from Blitz, and frankly, he never wanted to let Blitz out of his sight ever again. What if something like that happened again? What if someone attacked him and he wasn’t there to freeze the damage and bring Blitz to help? What if Blitz died when Hearth wasn’t looking?

But he couldn’t study more if he was also keeping a constant stakeout on Blitzen. So he tried to study, but found himself constantly inventing excuses to come into the shop. And once there he’d inevitably linger much longer than he’d originally intended, finding menial tasks that Blitzen probably needed help with (never mind that Blitz never asked for it.) Eventually he just gave up and told Blitz that their apartment was too cold so he needed to study in the shop because it was warmer. He didn’t think Blitz actually believed his excuse but Blitz let him stay, tolerating the clutter of spell books on his usually pristine counter.

Moving his studying into the shop didn’t really help his situation as dramatically as he’d hoped. It was _impossible_ to actually pay attention to his work. No matter how many times he resolved to focus, Hearth’s eyes constantly drifted back to Blitz, like some kind of magnet. Half the time it was because he nervously wanted to check on him. The other half of the time…well, he just really liked looking at Blitz. It was easier to convince himself that it was okay to look when he had the excuse of wanting to keep an eye out on his safety. It was lucky that Blitzen was so single-mindedly absorbed in his work all the time. Otherwise he definitely would have noticed all the staring.

In the end though, Hearth’s vigilance didn’t help.

Exploding gas mains just aren’t the sort of thing you can really see coming. One moment he was watching Blitz arguing with a customer, the next he’d been knocked to the ground and shattered glass was raining down on him. Hearth looked up to find half of the shop missing and what was left engulfed in flames.

Hearth scrambled to his feet and shards of the decimated windowpane sliced into his palms as he righted himself, but he didn’t notice. The air was hot and sulfurous and burned his throat as he tried to breathe; he barely noticed that either. There was only a single thought in his head, a panicked drumbeat of a thought that left no room for anything else in his consciousness:

_Where’sBlitzWhere’sBlitzWhere’sBlitzWhere’sBlitzWhere’sBlitzWhere’sBlitz_

Blitzen was no longer in sight. The display case he’d been standing next to was a broken jumble on the ground, and the lady who’d been talking to Blitz was sprawled next to it. Hearth lunged at the wreckage, pulling splintered boards and burning sweaters off of his best friend. For the second time in under a month his heart calcified into a lump of dread as he laid eyes on Blitz and couldn’t tell if he was looking at a living body or a corpse.

With trembling fingers he reached down to gently probe Blitzen for signs of life. Almost immediately Blitz erupted into a fit of coughing. Hearth nearly collapsed in relief. He might have actually done so if they were already safe; but the building was burning around them and Hearth still needed to get them out. He reached down to pull Blitz up, intending to drag him out of the shop and onto a branch of the world tree.

Blitz frantically shook his head and pushed Hearth away.

Hearth’s blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins. _Why was Blitz pushing him away?!_

He tried reaching for Blitz once more, determined to pull him out of the wreckage. Blitz shook his head again, this time gesturing towards the prostrate customer. Understanding clicked into place: Blitz wanted Hearth to get her out of the building before he helped him.

Hearth froze, caught in a moral dilemma: obviously Blitz was right. He couldn’t just leave an unconscious woman in a burning building. But then, he couldn’t leave _Blitz_ either. What if there was another explosion? What if the roof collapsed before he could come back for him?

Valuable seconds ticked by as Hearth angsted over what to do. Blitz weakly shoved him. The feebleness of his shove was disturbing and galvanized Hearth into action. He couldn’t leave an innocent bystander behind. He couldn’t let anything happen to Blitz either: so he was just going to have to be fast enough to help them both. With a worried glance over his shoulder, Hearth looped his hands under the lady’s arms and pulled her up. He dragged her past overturned racks and crumpled metal, carefully navigating her out of harms way. He deposited her across the street, well away from the blazing mess.

Several people tried to stop him from running back into the shop. Hearth shoved them aside with more force than was probably necessary and all but dived into the flames. This time Blitz didn’t object to his rescue. He didn’t react much at all, in fact. When Hearth tried to pick him up Blitz has heavier and stiffer than Hearth expected. He realized in horror that he was beginning to petrify: with half of the building missing there was nothing to shield Blitz from the daylight, and Blitz hadn’t been dressed for sun exposure.

How could he have been so stupid not to realize that before leaving Blitz alone? Hearth snatched up this staff where it had been dropped next to Blitz and aggressively swiped it through the air, ripping an opening out from Midgard. With urgency unlike any he’d felt before, Hearthstone picked Blitz up and jumped through the portal.

* * *

This time they were stuck in Valhalla for an entire week. Blitz had gotten more petrified than ever before and reversing the damage was more tedious than his previous injuries. Magnus spent hours each day infusing Blitz with healing energy. While he worked Hearth paced around anxiously, trying not to get in the way while simultaneously wanting to touch Blitz constantly to see how he was doing. He was sick with guilt that he hadn’t done a better job of protecting him.

His anxiety wasn’t helped by the fact that Magnus kept shooting him meaningful looks. But Hearth had no idea what they _meant_.

Had Magnus figured him out? Did he know about his thing for Blitzen? Did he feel sorry for him?

Hearth _hated_ it when people felt sorry for him. He got that enough already with his deafness. He hated anything that reminded him that he was different and that people noticed. The last thing he wanted was for one of his only close friends to start pitying him. He considered confronting Magnus about it, but didn’t actually want to have the conversation that he was pretty sure would follow. So he ignored the frequent sympathetic glances, and the way his heart sank every time he caught Magnus looking between him and Blitz. He ignored everything except for Blitz himself, who was becoming a bit less petrified each day, and was probably feeling smothered by all the attention. He never complained though, so Hearth continued his hawk-like hovering and constant reassuring touches and fussing.

* * *

When they made it back to Boston Blitz was obviously depressed about the state of his shop, but Hearth was able to clean up a lot of the mess with his newly enhanced magic skills. Insurance took care of the rest and soon _Blitzen’s Best_ was back in business. Blitz had a ‘grand re-opening’ party to celebrate everything being up and running again.

He knew he probably shouldn’t, but Blitz invited a few of his relatives to come. It was the absolute last thing he should have done actually, considering how strained things became with Hearth after the last time they’d interacted with his family. But on the other hand, he rationalized, so long as things were already strained _anyway_ he might as well get the benefit of being closer to Hearth out of it. The idea of pretending they were a couple again was just a little too appealing for him to ignore. Anyway, Hearth had said it was okay.

He might have gone a bit overboard in his acting though. It probably wasn’t necessary for him to have his arm slung around Hearth _every second_ of the party. Or to keep occasionally brushing his fingers through Hearth’s hair. And he wasn’t really thinking about it, but when he absent-mindedly kissed Hearth’s hand in front of Aunt Bótví, that had probably been taking things a bit too far. He felt guilty after doing that and pulled Hearth aside.

_Are you okay with this?_ He checked. _We can stop_.

_I’m fine,_ replied Hearth. _Did you want to stop?_ A frown tugged at his lips.

_No_ , Blitz immediately signed back. He very nearly added _I don’t ever want to stop. Let’s do this forever_. But he held back because in the middle of a party (his own party no less,) was not the place he wanted to have that confession, let alone the subsequent rejection he was sure would follow.

Hearth smiled at him, but Blitz could tell it was a bit forced. _Stop worrying._ He signed. _Enjoy the party._

Hearth took his hand as they stepped back into the crowd. His grip was tight and possessive and Blitz let himself pretend that it was real and not just for show.

* * *

Okay, there was more to Blitz’s bad judgment than just risking making Hearth uncomfortable at the party. By mixing his business with his family, he’d just established himself as dating Hearth to all of Boston as well as Nidavellir. He really hadn’t meant to. It hadn’t even occurred to him that this would be the outcome until the next day when one of his regular customers cornered him in the shop and began gushing about cute he and Hearth were together and asked if they were married. His jaw dropped in shock, and then he nearly smacked himself because _of course_ that would be the result. He hadn’t thought about it because his customers were largely transient, and he’d assumed they just saw him as a business, not a person. Why would anyone beyond his family pay attention to him as an individual? Apparently he left a stronger impression on his customers than he assumed. Throughout the course of the next day he received a surprising number of well wishes and congratulations. He tried to downplay it, but the damage had already been done.

_I’m sorry_. He guiltily confessed his mistake to Hearth after closing the shop. _I wasn’t thinking_.

Hearth’s expression remained blank as he took in the apology. Then he shrugged. _People assumed that anyway_ , he reminded Blitz.

“I’m not sure why,” mused Blitz, scratching his beard.

Hearth raised an eyebrow. _We’re always together. You don’t have a girlfriend. If you don’t want people to assume that, maybe you should…._

Hearth’s hands went still and his forehead creased.

_Nevermind_ , he quickly signed.

“What?” asked Blitz automatically.

Hearth didn’t see the question though; he’d already darted out of the room.

“What did I _do_ ,” asked Blitz to no one in particular.

* * *

Hearth paced around his room, fairly certain he was on the cusp of a nervous breakdown.

_I shouldn’t have started this_ , he thought to himself over and over again. _What did I get myself into!_

He couldn’t take much more of Blitz layering on this kind of insincere attention. Each casual touch and affectionate gesture simultaneously made his heart melt and yet something deep inside became more precariously brittle. He’d thought he’d just be able to enjoy the closeness while it lasted. But he’d underestimated the old wounds it would tear open: how much the fakeness of it would constantly remind him that he was actually undesirable, just like he’d known his entire life. This was evident in how uncomfortable Blitz kept looking about the whole thing, and in the way he kept offering to call it off.

Hearthstone pulled the ring Blitz had casually given him out of his pocket and put it on, nervously twisting it around his finger as he did so. It was something he’d gotten in the habit of doing when he was alone. He wanted to wear it all the time, but he was afraid that would clue Blitz in to his feelings. Besides, Blitz had said that would be weird, right? So he kept it in his pocket and only wore it when he was hiding in his room.

He saw a lot more hiding in his room in his future, the way things were going.

Or that would be the case…if he wasn’t too worried about Blitz to let him out of his sight.

He’d _really_ put himself in a bad spot this time.

And had he seriously just almost suggested that Blitz should get a girlfriend? Could he get any more masochistic?

_If you were a good friend you would want him to get a girlfriend,_ he chastised himself. _Blitz deserves to be happy._

Hearthstone tried for a moment to imagine that, he tried really hard to be okay with it. His chest felt like it was caught it a vise. Thinking about Blitz with someone else, someone who would want his attention _all the time_ , someone who would slowly eat away at the time Blitz had for Hearth until Hearth was just someone in his periphery, orbiting around at a frigid distance, no longer important or involved…reduced back to the insignificant detritus that his parents had convinced him he was…. A phantom stone rose to lodge in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe.

_Get used to the pain. This is going to happen eventually. Blitz is too wonderful to be alone forever. The only reason he’s still single is because our assignment with Magnus kept him too busy to meet people and socialize. But now he is constantly meeting new people through his shop. It’s only a matter of time before one of them really clicks with him. It’s inevitable._

Hearth slumped over on his bed, clutching at his sides as if he could physically push the hollow aching back under control. The cold metal of his ring dug into his fingers as he clenched them, leaving intricate imprints in his skin.

* * *

After an hour or two of wallowing in his misery, Hearth finally managed to convince himself that he needed to call things off. The charade was getting too messy and he was doing too bad of a job at keeping his feelings detached. As much as it would hurt to end this, it would be a thousand times worse if he let things continue to escalate. Honestly, it would probably end up ruining their friendship if he didn’t nip this in the bud as soon as possible. _That_ would truly be worse than anything that could possibly happen to him. He could (at least pretend he could) deal with Blitz getting a girlfriend or something. He couldn’t deal with Blitz cutting him out all together. He needed to do whatever he could to make sure that never happened. And if they kept pretend-dating any longer and then Blitz realized that it had never actually been very pretend to Hearth…well, the chances of that freaking Blitz out and ruining everything seemed pretty decent. He couldn’t let that happen. It was time to stop.

Hearth steeled himself and marched back downstairs. Blitz was sitting at the table he used for cutting out patterns, drawing swirls over a sketch of a dress design. The swirls had been traced over so many times that the paper was torn in places and there were metallic charcoal smudges across his hand. He glanced up as Hearth approached.

Hearth stopped as he reached the table, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

Just how was he supposed to do this? How could he meet Blitz’s eyes and blatantly lie that he didn’t want to keep holding hands and acting like Blitz was the center of his universe?

He lifted his hands, ready to start signing.

“Would you want to go out to dinner, maybe?” Blitz blurted out before Hearth could start.

Hearth froze, the words he was about to sign practically forgotten.

Had Blitz just asked him out on a date?

….

“I mean, it’s kinda late, and I don’t really feel like cooking, do you? And we can afford to do that sort of thing whenever we want now, what with all this gold building up all the time and stuff. No more eating out of dumpsters right? And people will _expect_ to see us out together now, I mean, they’ll probably start asking questions if they don’t and maybe that would be bad for business or something, considering how happy everyone seemed to be about us. So, yeah, don’t want to disappoint the customers or anything. Right? We could hit up House of Blues or something and grab some burgers maybe?”

Okay, just how the Helheim was he supposed to turn down _that_?

It figured that Blitz would think of inviting him to his favorite venue of all places. He’d originally started going there to be ironic, because his sense of humor thought it would be funny for the deaf guy to be hanging out at music themed venues just for the food. But he’d quickly found that he actually really enjoyed places like that. When the music was loud enough he could actually feel the vibrations thudding in his chest, and it was the closest he ever came to actually experiencing what hearing was like. There was also the fact that when the music was that loud, no one else could really hear very much either. So no one expected to be able to communicate with him or looked at him strange if he didn’t understand them. He could just let himself get lost in a crowd of upbeat people and actually feel like he belonged as much as anyone else. Not to mention, he had developed a real fondness for Midgardian bar food. It was pretty much the opposite of standard Alfheim fare. He was big into avoiding things that reminded him of Alfheim.

Blitz took his lack of response for disapproval. “We could go somewhere fancier of course!” he added, hastily. “Like, somewhere we’d have to dress up nicer if you’d like! I wasn’t trying to be a cheap date! We could go anywhere you want…just maybe not falafel. I think I’ve had enough of that to last six lifetimes.”

Of course Blitz had to actually go out and _use_ the word ‘date’ so that Hearth couldn’t even pretend that it was just normal for two friends to be grabbing dinner together. He might have been able to convince himself that he could say yes without it affecting his resolution to stop the pretend-dating.

No such luck.

He needed to say no. He needed to totally cut out anything that was even remotely date-ish and get things back to the way they had been before this whole fiasco. He needed to do damage control!

_I would love to grab a burger_ , he signed, in spite of his best intentions.

The pleased smile that lit up Blitz’s face at Hearth’s answer was almost enough to offset the miserable sinking feeling he got from his failure to act on his resolution.

Almost.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Blitz was pretty much the perfect date. He was attentive of Hearth almost to a fault, constantly asking his opinions on things and making sure the waitress didn’t have any trouble understanding him. He managed to come up with an almost endless supply of conversation, sometimes talking about his current projects, sometimes asking Hearth questions about his time in Asgard and how his studies were going. He even joined Hearth in signing snarky comments under the table about some of the more annoying customers around them.

Hearth was having such a good time that for a while he actually forgot to be worried about the strain their current situation was placing on their friendship. It felt like they were actually on a _real_ date, and not just one for show.

He knew better, of course. But if he didn’t dwell on it he could ignore that. And Blitz was making it easy to not dwell by being so engaging.

Yes, their date was pretty much textbook-ideal until the walk home.

They were walking slowly so that it was easy to stop and face each other whenever they wanted to say something. And against his better judgment Hearth had allowed Blitz to take his hand as they walked, and it was ridiculous just how _natural_ that felt now. Their fingers fit together so comfortably, and even before the dating thing had started Blitz had had a reassuring familiarity to him that Hearth didn’t feel around anyone else. Hearth observed with alarm that he was going to have a very hard time adjusting to _not_ casually grabbing Blitz’s hand whenever they went somewhere once this was over. He was going to miss this horribly.

_Some damage control you’re doing_ , he thought cynically. _It’s already way too late to not get hurt by this_.

Hearth just happened to look up as they were walking past Fenway Park and it was only by chance that the timing allowed him to see the stray baseball that was hurdling right at Blitzen’s head. He tackled Blitz, knocking him out of the way seconds before the ball would have connected.

Blitz’s eyes were wide as saucers as he looked up at Hearth from where he was splayed beneath him, and Hearth was suddenly _very_ aware of just how much contact there was between them; he was practically pinning Blitz to the ground. His embarrassment made him temporarily forget the oddness of a ball managing to get past the limits of the stadium. It also made him forget to move off of Blitz.

He stayed still for a moment, frozen by surprise and awkwardness and overwhelmed by that fact that he was maybe kind of turned on by their current situation—okay maybe a lot turned on—and oh Helheim, he needed to move _now_ or Blitz was definitely going to notice that last point.

He sprung back as if Blitz had turned into boiling acid.

_Baseball,_ he immediately signed. _Baseball. At your head. Freak baseball_.

He glanced around for the offending ball, hoping that it was somewhere visible so that he could prove that he really had had a reason for jumping on Blitz and hadn’t just gone crazy and tried to grope him. He found it a few feet away, embedded in a crater in the asphalt.

Hearth pointed frantically at the ball.

“Weird,” said Blitz, rubbing his head as he slowly sat up. “How could a ball get hit this far out here?” He frowned as his eyes landed on the baseball. “How could it hit the ground that _hard_ after being hit so far? Odin’s eye, that would have taken my head off!”

Hearth nodded in agreement, the thought of what they’d just avoided significantly sobering him.

“Man, did I just seriously almost have another accident? I’m starting to feel like I’ve been cursed.”

A man with reddish-blonde hair stepped out from behind a nearby tree that definitely seemed like it was too thin to have actually concealed a person. He was wearing a ragged fur coat and a bright red T-shirt that declared in bold white sans-serif font: _Don’t Keep Calm Freak Out and Break Stuff_.

If it was possible for Hearthstone to feel any more dismayed than he already did, having the god of mischief apparently seeking them out certainly did the trick.

Loki was slow-clapping as he approached; his scarred grin creeping across his face in a jagged slash.

“Ten points to the Svartalf,” he announced cheerfully, stopping only a few feet away from the stunned duo. “Really, I was starting to think you’d _never_ notice.”

“What did you _do_?” asked Blitz accusingly. He scrambled the rest of the way up and stepped protectively in front of Hearth.

Loki dramatically clasped at his chest. “You wound me, dwarf. So quick to assume I did something bad! I’d expect you of all people wouldn’t dismiss someone based on their reputation. There’s a lot of value to be found in people who are shunned by society, you know.” He raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked first at Hearthstone and then back at Blitz, smirking as he did so.

Blitz bristled. “Sometimes reputations are actually earned,” he gritted out.

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” said Loki with a shrug. “Hey, nice ring by the way. I used to have one just like it.”

Both Blitz and Hearth’s eyes immediately locked onto Blitz’s hand. Blitz held it up, looking at his banded finger in horror.

“You cursed Draupnir?”

“Why would I go and do a thing like that?” asked Loki, looking amused. “Not that it would matter if I had. That’s not Draupnir.”

“But…” said Blitz in confusion. “It has to be Draupnir! It multiplies!”

_Oh_ , signed Hearth, smacking his head. _I remember now. I know what it is. It’s A-N-D-V-A-R-A-N-A-U-T._

Blitz cringed as he remembered the story connected with the cursed name Hearth had spelled out. He’d learned about it in history class when he was a kid…something he probably hadn’t paid nearly enough attention to because the subject of the history lesson in question had happened well over a thousand years ago and hadn’t exactly seemed terribly relevant to a young dwarf who couldn’t stop thinking about fashion design.

He looked down at his hand in horror. The innocuous looking ring on his finger had been cursed because Loki had stolen it to pay a blood price for a murder he’d accidentally committed. It had then gone on to decimate the Dwarven royal family after Loki had given it to King Hreidmar. Devastating destruction had befallen every person to possess it since. To say it was cursed was putting it mildly. It was a miracle he was still alive.

Blitz hastily began pulling the ring off his finger.

“Smart move,” said Loki as he took a bite out of a ballpark hotdog (he hadn’t been holding one the last time Blitz had glanced at him.) “You should get that far away from you. I’d be happy to dispose of it.”

Blitz froze with the ring midway down his finger. Now it made sense why Loki had appeared to them: he wanted the ring. And if Loki wanted it, it was a pretty safe bet that he wanted it for bad reasons. And if Blitz got rid of the ring Loki would almost certainly manage to get his hands on it.

“You know, these things are utterly disgusting,” said Loki, licking his fingers as he finished off the hot dog. “Have you ever watched one of those exposés that shows what does into them? If you haven’t: don’t. It’ll put you off processed food forever. I’d give them up, but it just isn’t a ballgame without a hot dog, you know?”

“You should probably get back to your game,” said Blitz curtly, pushing the ring back down onto his finger.

“Oh, the game out here is way more interesting than the one in the stadium,” said Loki.

“Whatever your game is, I’m not playing.”

“So long as you’ve got that ring I’m afraid you don’t have the option of sitting it out,” said Loki. “But good news for you: there’s a very easy way to get yourself benched. All you have to do is give me the ring and I’ll take care of the messy stuff. You two love birds can get on with your lives without any more bad luck.”

It was weird how Blitz had wanted so very badly for everyone to think that he and Hearth were together, yet hearing that very same assumption fall from Loki’s lips turned his stomach. Maybe it was because lies were the half-Jötunn’s specialty. Hearing _Loki_ call them ‘love birds’ only highlighted the fact that they weren’t.

“We’re not like that,” he muttered, deliberately not looking back to see how Hearth was reacting. “And we’ll figure things out without your help, thanks.”

“Hm, yeah, _sure_.” Loki snorted. “Sounds to me like you guys have some issues to work out. Ever consider couples counseling? Maybe you should talk to someone about that. I have a great therapist I could recommend to you. Here, let me find their card.” He patted himself all over even though he only had a single set of obvious pockets. Finally he whipped out a small business card and forced it into Blitz’s hand. The card had nothing on it except one word: LOKI.

“I take a broad range of insurance options.” He winked.

Blitz scowled and made a show of deliberately ripping the card in half and dropping it to the ground.

“Go away,” he snapped. “We’re done here.”

“So rude,” sighed Loki. “Really I have no idea what the elf sees in you.”

Loki’s words were like an electric shock to Blitz’s system.

_What the elf sees in you_.

Did Loki actually have some insight into Hearth’s feelings?

_No._

_NoNoNo, Don’t listen to him. Never listen to Loki. Loki lies. He loves to screw with people. Loki is the absolute last person he should listen to when it came to anything regarding Hearth._

_Except._

_Except, except! Loki isn’t really a black-and-white guy. He doesn’t always lie…just when it suits him. He’s unpredictable. He could be speaking sincerely…._

_No, no, stop stop stop. Nothing good ever comes of wondering if you can trust Loki. Block him out._

Blitz swiveled around and grabbed Hearth’s arm. Hearth jerked a bit at the touch and Blitz looked up to find the elf seething mad. His stomach dropped and he almost let go of his friend.

Was Hearth mad because of him? Had he just figured out the truth because of Loki’s carefully targeted words?

Hearth’s glare was directed at Loki though, not him.

_Go jump off a bridge_ , signed Hearth at the god.

“Hm, well, that is something that tends to happen to people around you, isn’t it?” said Loki, unkindly referring to Magnus’s death.

Blitz watched as Hearth’s already ghostly complexion turned even paler.

“Come on, we’re getting out of here,” he insisted. He tugged at Hearth maybe a little too roughly but he was Helheim-bent to put as much distance between Loki and Hearth as quickly as possible.

He heard Loki yell, “Call me maybe,” but Blitz refused to turn around and acknowledge him.

They were halfway back to Newbury Street when Hearth took an unexpected turn and veered off towards the river.

“Wait, where are you going?” asked Blitz as Hearth dragged him away from their apartment. Hearth couldn’t see his lips though, so Blitz’s objections had no impact. He needn’t have asked. Blitz became more sure of Hearth’s intentions the closer they got to the bridge.

Halfway across the Charles River Hearth finally stopped and turned to face Blitz with steely determination on his face. He held out his hand expectantly.

“Hearth, no,” said Blitz. “We can’t just toss the ring in the river. It’ll fall into the wrong hands too easily.”

_That doesn’t matter,_ signed Hearth. _You need to get rid of it._

“But if we just toss it in the river Loki will almost definitely get it,” Blitz pointed out. “I’m pretty sure that would be bad news.”

_I don’t care_ , insisted Hearth. _That doesn’t matter. It would be worse news if something happened to you._

“Bad things will happen to a lot more people than just me if we don’t handle this carefully,” Blitz stubbornly objected.

Hearth tugged on his scarf in frustration. _This is serious_. His hand motions where jerkier and more frantic than usual.

“I know!” exclaimed Blitz.

Hearth looked like he was about to start signing something but then just balled his fists up in frustration. Without any further warning he tackled Blitz and tried to wrestle the ring off of his finger.

Hearth was respectively strong but dwarves are built pretty much like rocks and despite being shorter Blitz had the strength advantage. They struggled for a while but it became clear that Hearth wasn’t going to get the ring without using magic as leverage. Blitz sensed him thinking about doing just that.

“If you use your runes against me, I swear I won’t forgive you,” he snapped in desperation.

Blitz watched Hearth’s face crumple.

_Not fair._ He let go to sign.

_Using magic against me is what’s not fair_ , Blitz retorted.

_I’d rather you have a grudge against me than be dead_ , signed Hearth. _I won’t forgive_ you _if you die._

_I’m not going to die!_ Insisted Blitz.

_You almost did twice!_

_Now we know what’s going on_ , signed Blitz. _We’ll be more careful_.

_Being careful won’t be enough_ , insisted Hearth. _You can’t outsmart a curse. It’s killed dozens of people._

_It’s not going to kill me._

_You can’t promise that._

Blitz watched as Hearth swiped messily at his face. “Hey…wait…are you _crying_?” He asked in shock.

Hearth didn’t answer the question but his eyes were definitely greener and wetter than usual.

_Get rid of the ring_ , he signed again with excessive force.

_We will,_ Blitz conceded. _But we need to figure out the right way to do it. We can’t just toss it anywhere that L-O-K-I might get his hands on it._

_B-L-I-T-Z_ (here it became very obvious that Hearth was distressed, as he rarely bothered addressing anyone he was directly speaking to by name since it required the extra effort of spelling out instead of having a single sign, and was generally unnecessary effort since it was always clear who he was addressing anyway,) _we can’t afford to stall. We don’t have time to figure out the right way to get rid of it. You could be dead by tomorrow._

“And _lots_ of people will probably be dead if Loki gets it,” Blitz doggedly reiterated.

_If you won’t get rid of it now then let me wear it instead_ , signed Hearth.

“No way!” Blitzen was utterly horrified by the suggestion.

_Yes!_ Demanded Hearth _. We should at least share the risk then._

“No way!” Blitz just insisted again. He couldn’t even think of a good excuse for why that was unacceptable. But there was no way in Helheim that he was letting the ring so much as _touch_ Hearthstone.

_Now you understand how I feel_. Hearth gave Blitz a pointed look and held out his hand again for the ring.

_You can do magic_ , Blitz pointed out. _If something happens you can help me. I wouldn’t be able to save you from an accident._

_I’ll take my chances_ , replied Hearth stubbornly. _You’ve had too many close calls already_.

Blitz just crossed his arms and stood his ground.

Hearth bit his lip and then frowned. Stony resolve flashed in his eyes as he clearly made up his mind about something and reached for the rune-filled pouch tied to his belt.

“No!” Blitz exclaimed, his desire to stop Hearth too urgent to take the time to sign his objection. He grabbed Hearth’s arm in an iron grip.

Hearth couldn’t answer with Blitz holding onto his arm like that but his eyes made it very clear that he had no intention of backing down.

“Look, why don’t we go talk to Samirah,” Blitz offered. “She can contact Odin, and Loki’s her dad, so she might have some insight on why he would want the ring. How does that sound?”

Hearth continued to frown but eventually he nodded. His eyes remained riveted on Blitz’s hand though, like there was an excitable viper coiled around Blitz’s finger rather than inert metal.

Blitz loosened his grip on Hearth’s arm, no longer restraining him. “She’ll probably know what to do,” he reassured Hearth with a lot more confidence than he felt.

* * *

“I have no idea what you should do,” Samirah said regretfully, once the entire situation had been explained to her. “But you’re right, don’t let Loki anywhere near that thing.”

“Do you know what he wanted it for?”

Samirah shrugged. “General chaos and mayhem, probably.”

_Maybe we should give it to him though_ , Hearth hesitantly signed.

Blitz and Samirah both looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

_The ring is going to cause chaos and mayhem wherever it goes_ , he explained. _Does it really matter who has it?_

“It would be better for pretty much _anyone_ to have it than Loki,” said Sam with a distasteful expression as she said her dad’s name.

_But if we get rid of it someone innocent might find it_ , argued Hearth. _Maybe if L-O-K-I has it, he’ll be the one to get hurt, not someone random._

“Or maybe he’ll find a way to maximize the number of people getting hurt by it,” Samirah pointed out. “Maybe he’ll stick the ring in an orphanage or something.”

_I don’t actually think he’d do that_ , signed Hearth.

“Well that’s nice for you, but that only makes one of us,” disagreed Samirah. “I know he can seem very agreeable when he tries to be, but you should never actually listen to him. I know better than you what a jerk he can be.”

“I’m with Sam,” agreed Blitzen.

_I don’t think he’s agreeable at all_ , Hearth contradicted. _I’d like nothing more than to kick him in the face, actually. Killing an orphanage full of kids just doesn’t seem his style, that’s all._

“Anything could be his style,” remarked Sam. “He’s flighty and malleable. Literally.”

_Historically speaking there were usually logical reasons behind the bad stuff he did._

“Oh my gods, Hearth, are you actually trying to defend him?” Samirah physically backed up a little, like Hearth had transformed into a suspicious stranger.

_No._ Hearth’s shoulders slumped in frustration. _Of course not. He did unforgivable things. I was just pointing out they weren’t usually random._

“Yeah, well there’s a first time for everything,” said Blitz. “And I think that we can all agree that trusting Loki would be a mistake.”

_Letting you die would be a bigger mistake_ , Hearth quickly signed back. _He actually helped us. We didn’t realize the ring was A-N-D-V-A-R-A-N-A-U-T. He warned us you were in danger._

“There’s got to be a better way to get rid of the ring than just handing it over to Loki,” said Sam, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Have you tried destroying it?”

Blitz and Hearth exchanged a shocked look of dismay.

“…No,” said Blitz, embarrassment thick in his voice. “We kind of panicked and jumped right into arguing about throwing it away.”

“Well, I think destroying it would definitely be better than throwing it away,” said Samirah.

Blitz and Hearth both nodded in agreement.

“Let’s take it to Nidavellir and melt it in the forges,” said Blitz, snapping his fingers.

_Or you could just give it to Junior,_ Hearth suggested.

Blitz snorted but quickly wiped the smirk off his face at Samirah’s disapproving glare.

“ _Hearth_ ,” she chastised.

_I was joking_ , he replied. He paused a bit before hurriedly adding: _mostly_.

“Don’t worry, we’ll melt it down,” Blitz emphasized.

“Do you need me to come with?” asked Sam.

_No, we’ll be fine_ , signed Hearth.

Samirah raised an eyebrow and Blitz could tell that she was wondering if they really ought to be supervised.

“Sorry for barging in on you at your grandparent’s house,” apologized Blitz.

“They didn’t see you, so it’s fine,” she replied. “You guys be careful, okay?” she glanced at them worriedly.

_We’ll be careful_ , Hearth confirmed. He gave Sam a quick hug.

Blitz did the same before waving goodbye as he grabbed Hearth’s hand and jumped onto the World tree.

* * *

Hearthstone blinked against the darkness. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he visited Nidavellir, the all-encompassing dusk always made him feel uncomfortably off-kilter. Hopefully they wouldn’t be staying long enough for the lack of sunlight to affect him too badly. Though despite moving to Midgard, Blitz had kept his apartment in Nidavellir just so that he could have a tanning bed on hand in case they had business down here and Hearth needed to recharge. It had come in handy during the funeral and if necessary he’d use it again on this trip.

He continued to grip Blitz’s hand after arriving, and now he didn’t even try to lie to himself that the reason was for in case they bumped into one of Blitz’s relatives. No. Their fake relationship was no longer his primary problem. Hearth clung to Blitz because he was terrified that if he so much as glanced away for a second Blitz was going to snuff out of existence. Rationally he knew that simply holding the dwarf’s hand would do little in the face of a deadly curse, but he still felt like he could somehow help anchor Blitz to the world. Or at least this way if something happened to Blitz, it would probably happen to them _together_. That thought probably should have worried him, but instead he found it strangely comforting.

“Let’s go to the public forges in the community center,” Blitz said. “They’ll be bigger and hotter than any individual workshops.”

Hearth nodded at Blitz’s suggestion and let his friend lead him towards the city center.

As they approached the forges they passed a few people who waved at them, and Hearth found that this time he wasn’t even embarrassed about what they might be thinking about him and Blitz. Okay, so maybe they were lying to everyone and they weren’t actually together in the way people thought. But they were still _together_ —even if it was in a more disappointingly platonic way then they implied—and as far as Hearth was concerned, Blitzen was _his_ and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure not a single other bad thing happened to him. He tightened his grip on Blitz’s hand and felt Blitz squeeze him back. A surge of warm affection spread through him at the tactile reassurance.

Blitz barely acknowledged some acquaintances that tried to stop them and chat when they arrived at the forge. He plowed right past, snatching an empty crucible up off a workstation and practically throwing the ring inside. “Lets show that curse who’s boss,” he said (with more confidence than Hearth personally felt, but he appreciated Blitz’s determination.)

Blitz thrust the crucible into the fire.

They waited.

They waited some more.

Blitz tilted the handle around so that the vessel hit the flames at different angles. He tried burying the bottom of the crucible in the coals.

Nothing happened.

Both Blitz and Hearth watched as other dwarves came and went, their own projects finished in minutes.

“It should have melted by now,” Blitz said grimly. “I should have been able to melt ten gold rings in this time.”

Hearth just shrugged unhelpfully. He didn’t really know very much about crafting, and even less about _uncrafting_.

They waited an entire hour before Blitz gave up and announced that the ring was un-meltable.

_Maybe we could crush it instead_ , Hearth suggested.

Blitz agreed that was an idea worth trying and they put the ring in a vise and rigged up a pulley system to allow them to smash it with an anvil.

The anvil bounced off as if it were a feather and the ring remained unscathed.

Next they dropped the ring into a vat of aqua regia. The ring didn’t dissolve: although maybe it was just because they didn’t leave it in the mixture long enough. As the experiments progressed, Hearth felt himself getting weaker and weaker from sun-deprivation. He didn’t say anything because he found the need to destroy the ring more pressing than his personal comfort. But of course Blitz noticed and immediately began fussing.

It didn’t matter how many times Hearth insisted, _I’m fine_. Blitz retrieved the ring from the acid bath, rinsed it off and put it back on (in spite of Hearth’s fervent objections,) and dragged Hearth back to his apartment with the promise that they’d try dissolving the ring again the next day.

Or at least, that was the plan.

They hadn’t made it very far from the workshop when Hearth noticed Blitz’s eyes go wide. He didn’t even have time to ask Blitz what he was hearing before a landslide of rocks fell from the sky.

Hearth felt Blitz shove him out of the way. He fell over backwards, pieces of gravel and dirt hitting his face and blurring his vision. He frantically reached out and grabbed at thin air, searching for Blitzen.

Only rocks met his fingers.

Panic surged in his chest as he tried to rub the dirt out of his eyes, unable to even call out for Blitz in his unseeing state.

_Blitz is fine_ , he told himself, to tamp down his panic. _Blitz grew up underground, he’s used to this sort of thing happening. Blitz will be fine._

He continued to reach out with one hand as he rubbed at his face with the other. The faint awareness of _I hope I don’t go blind_ , buried under the far more urgent thought loop of _have to find Blitz, have to find Blitz, have to find Blitz._

It was like the cruelest case of déjà vu.

His hands slammed into stone and dirt and sand.

But not Blitz.

Tears washed the dirt out of his eyes but didn’t make his vision any less blurry.

He should have stuck to his resolution to force Blitz to get rid of that horrible ring immediately! Blitz was too thoughtful and kind. It was going to be the death of him. If it hadn’t _already_ been the death of him.

A death that Hearth could have _prevented_.

He should have done whatever was necessary to save him. Even if the consequence would have left Blitz resenting him. That would have been better than _this_.

He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, clearing his sight enough to continue his search.

Bystanders were now descending to help clear the rubble. As two dwarves hoisted up a particularly large slab of stone Hearth caught a glimpse of champagne colored linen. _Blitz’s shirt_.

He dove to the site and joined them in hauling away the rest of the wreckage. As the rest of Blitz emerged Hearth ungratefully shoved the others away so he could get close and inspect him.

Blitz was unconscious but still breathing. Dark bruises marred his already dark skin. A trail of blood was smeared worryingly across his face. Hearth traced the smear with his finger, finding a large knot at its source on Blitz’s head.

Oblivious to the commotion around them, Hearth picked Blitz up and carried the injured dwarf back to the small apartment.

He could barely still stand by the time he succeeded in depositing Blitz on his bed. Hearth had already been dangerously weak before the landslide had occurred. The effort of moving rocks and carrying Blitz had drained what little energy reserves he had left. What he needed to do was spend a couple of hours in the tanning bed, but there wasn’t time for that. What he needed to do more was get Blitz medical attention but Hearth wasn’t sure he was strong enough to transport Blitz to Valhalla. He’d be lucky if he could make a single trip across the world tree, and making the journey with an additional person was riskier than he could afford. Hearth wasn’t willing to chance dropping Blitz off of one of the branches if an attack of weakness struck him down mid journey.

There was something else he needed to do too, though, aside from getting Blitz treatment.

Hearth pulled the ring Blitz had given him out of his pocket and momentarily studied it. It truly was identical to the one on Blitz’s finger. Hearth slipped the cursed ring off of Blitz’s hand and quickly replaced it with the duplicate. He put Andvaranaut on his own finger. The ring pulsed with an alien warmth that made Hearth want to immediately remove it. But he didn’t. He needed to make sure the ring stayed in his possession until he could get it as far way from Blitz as possible. He couldn’t risk losing track of it and it hurting Blitz again.

Hearthstone smiled in relief. _Blitz was still alive and the ring wasn’t going to touch him again. Everything was going to be okay. Soon._

He leaned over his unconscious friend and brushed his fingers across Blitz’s face, this time simply a gesture of affection rather than checking for injury. He reached into his rune pouch, intending to pull out the Algiz rune for protection. When he brought his stone out though his eyes were met with an angular symbol reminiscent of the letter _B_. Berkano. This wasn’t the rune for protection. It meant: _new beginnings._ Or: _arousal of desire, a love affair or new birth_. Or inverted: _anxiety for someone close to you._

Hearth felt his checks start to burn as he tried not to dwell on the disturbing accuracy of the inversion, not to mention how much his heart yearned for the un-inverted meaning. He tossed the stone back into his pouch and this time was more careful in making sure he selected his intended stone, his fingers ghosting over their cold surfaces until grooves shaped like a bird’s foot met his touch.

He checked to make sure the stone really was Algiz before gently placing it on Blitz’s chest. His vision swam with weariness as the stone made contact, the spell seeping away even more of his faint reserves.

In a moment of delirious fatigue Hearth succumbed to the temptation to lean down and chastely kiss Blitz’s forehead. He immediately felt guilty and pulled away, ashamed that he’d done such a thing while Blitz was unconscious. He straightened and backed away.

_I love you_ , he quickly signed before reaching out for the ever-present invisible branches and pulling himself up onto Yggdrasil and disappearing from Nidavellir.

* * *

Magnus had trouble making sense of the elf’s frantic signing. The symbols were blurred from speed and the fact that Hearthstone was trembling all over from some sort of combination of distress and exhaustion. He grabbed Hearth’s hands and stilled them, trying to direct some healing energy into his friend to calm him down and give him the fortitude to communicate clearly.

He was used to being bombarded with pain and negativity at the elf’s touch, but Hearth had been getting better since Magnus had discovered his secret. The despair hadn’t been as biting and all-encompassing lately compared to when he’d first felt it inside his friend.

Whatever progress Hearth had made since the defeat of Fenris had been undone and then some. Magnus nearly let go at the startling crush of pain he felt ebbing out of Hearthstone’s hands. He could sense a disturbing fragility to his friend, all of the strength he knew him to possess eaten away and replaced with bone-deep fatigue and sorrow. How had Hearth even managed to get to Valhalla in this state?

“Where’s Blitz?” he asked, suspecting that the answer to that question probably had something to do with Hearth’s distraught status.

Hearth’s face shattered at the question and he pulled his hands back to resume his frenetic signing.

_Apartment_.

_N-I-D-A-V-E-L-L-I-R_

_Hurt._

_Go._

_Help him._

“Okay,” said Magnus, nodding in understanding. “Blitz is hurt? He’s in Nidavellir? I can go to him. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”

Gratitude flashed across Hearth’s face. _Thank you_ , he signed.

Magnus reached out again. “You don’t feel like you’re in very good shape either though,” he said, voice laced with concern. “Here, let me heal you for a moment before we go so you can handle the trip—”

Hearth dodged from his reach and took an unsteady step backwards.

_No. Go. Help him. Now._

He disappeared before Magnus could argue.

* * *

Intense sun beat down on him, but Hearth was too weak to feel it’s restorative benefit. He collapsed as soon as his feet hit the ground. He’d barely taken in a glimpse of the lush greenery and elegant architecture of his home world before his vision faded to darkness. He wasn’t even sure if he’d really made it to Alfheim or if he was simply hallucinating.

* * *

There was a deep gorge with un-scalable walls up in the mountains above Hearth’s hometown. No one ever went there; and no one certainly ever made it to the bottom alive. His plan had been to toss the ring into the gorge. Short of using magic there would be no way for anyone to retrieve the ring. And aside from himself, no one in Alfheim used magic. The ring would be quite thoroughly lost. And even if it _wasn’t_ as thoroughly lost as he intended, Alfheim was one place Blitz couldn’t go to due to the unending daylight. So no matter what, Hearth’s best friend would be quite thoroughly removed from any further harm.

That was the plan, anyway.

Plans had a way of falling apart when curses entered the equation though.

Hearth awoke to a throbbing pain in his side. It felt like someone had kicked him in the ribs. Attempting to sit up only caused the pain to intensify. Hearth pulled up his shirt to inspect the injury. His inspection revealed two things:

  * He had a large bruise on his side that suspiciously complied with the scenario of having been kicked in the ribs.
  * His shirt had been way too easy to pull up. His tightly zipped jacket should have gotten in the way and been necessary to remove for access. Where was his jacket?



His jacket was gone.

His scarf was gone.

His boots were gone.

…As were his runes, his staff and…

…He didn’t even need to glance at his hand to know the ring was missing too. He could feel the absence of its warmth.

This wasn’t good.

Hearth looked around, hoping that the culprit hadn’t gotten far away.

There was no trace of anyone with his stolen items. There were plenty of other people though. Elves of all different ages and status stood around, unabashedly staring at him. No one approached to help. No, he could see their lips moving as they gossiped about his unfortunate state, his unconventional appearance, and his general patheticness.

_What a hideous shirt. He wouldn’t have been such a target if he’d only bothered to dress respectably._

_Look how thin he is. He looks sick. It’s not surprising they overpowered him._

_What’s someone like that even doing around here anyway? He should have stayed away._

Hearth scrunched his eyes shut, his only defense against the cruel words of strangers. He couldn’t shut them out though. A thousand unpleasant memories leapt up to fill the internal void of stimuli. He had years of criticism and unkind words to replace his current tormentors.

_Useless._

_Freak._

_Deliberate embarrassment._

_I wish you had died._

He was feeling lightheaded and dizzy now. A cold sweat broke out all over his skin, in spite of the warm sunlight bathing him, and his hands were definitely shaking. His chest felt like an anvil had settled on it.

He was having a panic attack.

He was no stranger to the affliction; he’d had _many_ panic attacks in his younger years. But still, the overwhelming involuntary bodily reaction caught him off guard. It had been a very long time since he’d been stuck by one and he was ill equipped to deal. The last time this had happened Blitz had been there. Blitz had talked him through it and rubbed his back and reassuringly held him until the stifling grip of panic had slackened and it no longer felt like he was being pushed underwater. Blitz had been amazing and what had he done in return? He couldn’t even fix this one little problem for his friend. All he’d needed to do was get rid of the stupid ring, and he’d screwed even that up. He couldn’t do the smallest favor for the one person who had done everything for him.

He _was_ useless. Just like everyone kept telling him.

His stomach churned, he felt like throwing up.

Blitz had almost died. Not just once but again and again. For all he knew Blitz might be dead right now. He’d left him in terrible state, and for what? To _fail_.

Why had he thought he could even do this?

Why had he waited this long?

He should have done this weeks ago. He should have seen the ring for what it really was. He should have remembered. He should have figured it out. He should have gotten it far away from Blitz before there was a chance for it to weaken them both to the state they were in. He could have prevented everything. If he’d just been smarter and stronger and _better_.

And now when he returned Blitz wouldn’t be relieved that he’d solved their problem. He’d be angry that Hearth had tricked him and lost the ring. There was no guarantee now that it wouldn’t fall into destructive hands. Or hurt someone innocent. He’d probably caused the very thing that Blitz had been self-sacrificingly trying to prevent.

Imagining the frigid direction his friendship with Blitz might now take ramped up the panic attack two-fold. Hearth let the overwhelming wave of dizziness crash over him and slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Hearth opened his eyes again his stolen items hadn’t magically reappeared. But at least he no longer had a crowd of spectators. The people that now passed by him were acting like he was invisible, not sparing a second glance to the hapless elf on the ground. He’d long ago learned to appreciate being invisible in Alfheim, though. It was vastly preferable to when people were noticing him.

It took a lot of willpower to drag himself up, though. Being back in his hated home world and especially being faced by the harsh criticism of other elves made him want to disappear for real. Hearth took a moment to really appreciate the fact that he had left Alfheim, and even more that he had managed to make a friend like Blitzen. Before meeting the dwarf Hearth hadn’t thought it was possible for anyone to ever care about him.

_Things might go back to how they were before though,_ taunted the depressive and self-deprecating voice in the back of his head. _When Blitz figures out all the truths of what you’ve done, he won’t care anymore. You might be better off just staying here and not seeing his disappointment._

_No,_ he countered himself. _You left Blitz behind half-dead. You have to go back and see that he’s okay. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you now. You have to see for yourself that he’s alright._

It was that thought alone that gave Hearth the strength to start moving. His time under Alfheim’s blaring sun had returned his physical strength, but mentally he still felt decimated.

He began walking, deciding that he should look around a bit before he left, just to make sure he couldn’t locate the ring again on the off-chance that the thief was still in the vicinity. (Not that he was sure what he would do if he actually found the culprit. Steal another toy bow and arrow to ineffectively attack them? He was pretty much useless without his runes and staff.)

Hearth trudged past opulent stone arches, scrolling metal gates, and the delicate gardens which wove in-between the buildings of his hometown. He barely noticed these things though; the beauty of Alfheim left him feeling cold and detached.

_I just want to go back to Newbury Street,_ looped around and around in his head.

_What if Blitzen doesn’t want me there any more?_

_Don’t be stupid_ , he tried to reassure himself. _That wouldn’t happen._

His internal rebuttal lacked conviction and didn’t do much to ease the squirming knot of tension in his stomach.

He scanned the crowd of elves who were slipping in and out of shops and getting in cars and doing other mundane daily things while oblivious to Hearth’s plight. They all looked preoccupied and unremarkable, dressed in bland business attire and expensive sweaters and—

Hearth’s eyes went wide as he registered a very familiar article of clothing.

Red and white wool in wide bands encircled the neck of a complete stranger reading a newspaper on a park bench a few yards away.

He didn’t have a leather jacket, or pointy boots, and he definitely didn’t seem to be in possession of a forked sorcerer’s staff…but Hearth had no doubts that that was _his_ scarf wrapped around the man’s neck.

_His_ scarf that had been given to him by _his_ best friend: the first genuine gift that anyone had ever given him.

He would recognize it anywhere.

And it meant a _lot_ to him.

The roiling sick feeling that had been churning inside him since he arrived here hardened and shrank into a fiery ball of anger.

He was so _done_.

He was done with Alfheim, and it’s snooty, stuck-up residents. He was done with being taken advantage of. He was done with bad things happening to him and the people he cared about. He was _done_.

And maybe he had completely ruined things with the most important person to him but he was not going to let some jerk with newsprint on his fingers take away the one memento he had of how _good_ things had once been with Blitz.

No.

Over his dead body.

Hearth stormed up to the park bench and decked the stranger in the face.

* * *

_Ok_ , thought Hearth, as he was tackled from behind. _Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way I could have handled things._

He possibly could have come up with a less violent solution for getting his scarf back. Or at the very least, he probably should have looked around and checked for cops before letting his fist fly.

It was just his usual luck that there _was_ a cop nearby. Who had seen _everything_. And immediately sprung to help.

Hearth was yanked back before he could lay a second hit and he hadn’t even managed to get his scarf.

_This sucked_.

He began to struggle. Not because he thought he could actually get away, but because he needed to explain himself and he couldn’t do that with his arms restrained.

Cold metal snapped around his wrists and Hearth began to panic.

“He just attacked me out of nowhere,” the ‘victim’ (dirty lying thief more like) was saying to the cop. “I have no idea why.”

_I bet you do_ , thought Hearth angrily. _I bet you know exactly why_. _Where is the rest of my stuff? Were you the one who took it or was it one of your friends?_

He didn’t appear to be wearing the ring.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The cop was now addressing him.

Hearth just shook his head, unable to answer.

“Nothing to say because you’re clearly guilty,” announced the policeman. “Well, we’ll deal with you at the station.”

Hearth struggled harder, desperate to at least attempt to explain himself.

“Resisting arrest, eh?” The cop grinned evilly. Then he whipped out a baton and clubbed Hearth on the head.

* * *

It was starting to become a disturbingly common occurrence for Blitz to groggily wake up in the beigest room in all of the nine realms.

What wasn’t so common about this time though, was that Blitz woke up _alone_. There wasn’t a worried looking elf slumped over in a nearby chair, or curled up with him in the oversized bed.

An uneasy sense of dread washed over him as Blitz hopped out of bed. He didn’t stop to look himself over to see what shape he was in or try to remember how he’d been injured. He didn’t care what had happened to result in him being back under Magnus’s watch. He just needed to find out where Hearthstone was.

He found Magnus in his entertainment alcove, getting badly beaten at Mario Kart by a guy in a Civil War uniform.

“Oh good, you’re up,” said Magnus cheerfully, after his car had veered off a cliff. “How are you feeling?”

“Where’s Hearth?” he asked urgently.

Magnus’s cheerfulness quickly slid into guilty discomfort. “Um, I’m sorry Blitz. I have no idea.”

“What do you mean you have no idea?” he asked hysterically. “I didn’t get here by myself! What happened to him?”

“I don’t know!” Magnus reiterated. “He came to me, very upset. He said you were hurt and that I needed to go help you. But then he disappeared before I could ask him what was going on. I don’t even know how you got hurt. Or why he seemed so weak. I just did what he asked and went to Nidavellir to get you. You had some bruises and broken bones and a concussion. But I don’t know what happened or why he left. Do you have any idea?”

With a sinking feeling an idea formed in Blitz’s mind a little too easily. He glanced down at his hand. There was still a golden ring on his finger but he knew almost instinctively that it was the wrong one.

“That idiot!” he exclaimed in dismay.

“I’ll say,” said a voice that most certainly didn’t belong to Magnus.

“Hey that was my controller!” exclaimed another voice that didn’t belong to Magnus.

Both Blitz and Magnus turned to see the Civil War guy glaring daggers at an intruder in a black leather jacket and a red and white-stripped scarf. A tall oak staff leaned next to him, resting on the couch.

Loki ignored the attention, calmly selecting Princess Peach from the avatar menu.

At the sight of Hearth’s clothes on someone who was _not_ Hearth, Blitz’s blood ran cold. “What did you _do_ to him?!” Against his better judgment he lunged at the god and grabbed him by the familiar leather collar, shaking him violently.

“Nothing,” said Loki, still fiddling around with the video game, changing the setting to single player and starting the race. “I haven’t even seen the guy recently.”

“You’re wearing _his clothes_ ,” Blitz hissed, not letting go of the collar. He gripped the jacket so hard his knuckles paled.

“Yeah, weird, huh?” agreed Loki. “Thought you might be interested in that.”

“What did you do to him!”

“I was under the impression that you weren’t the deaf one,” Loki complained, deliberately running his car off of the Rainbow Road. “I already told you I haven’t touched him. You should listen to people when they answer you nicely.”

“The word _nicely_ doesn’t really apply to you,” growled Blitz.

“Au contraire,” said Loki flippantly. “I’m plenty nice. I can out-nice anyone in this room. I mean, just look at me now. Totally wasting my time just because I thought it would be awfully _nice_ of me to return this stuff I _found_. You could take some lessons in being appreciative of favors.”

The god of mischief put down the game controller and casually stripped off the jacket and scarf, tossing them at Blitz along with the staff and a familiar pouch which clinked like it was full of stones as Blitz caught it. Removing the jacket revealed that Loki was wearing a green T-shirt that said on it: _Up All Night to get Loki!_

“You _found_ them,” said Blitz skeptically.

“Well, the staff and runes were just sort of laying about in a ditch,” explained Loki. “Seemed like a shame to just leave them there, right?”

“And the jacket and scarf?”

“I might have found them on an elf or two.” Loki shrugged. “It doesn’t count as stealing if the thing doesn’t belong to the person you’re taking them from. At least, not in my book.” He winked.

“Where did you find them?” Blitz demanded.

“Alfheim, of course. You might want to get your ass over there, by the way. I don’t think your boy-o is having a very nice time.”

“He’s in _Alfheim_?” Blitz asked in consternation.

“Does this room have an echo?” asked Loki. “That’s what I said. Are you going to go save him, or what?”

Blitz gritted his teeth. “Why are you helping me?” he asked suspiciously.

Loki’s grin turned a little less friendly and a little more predatory. “He unwittingly helped me get something I wanted. And I play a long game. You two still have an important role in it.”

He gave Blitz a crisp salute, and Blitz caught a flash of gold on his raised hand.

“Wait, is that my—?”

Before Blitz could finish his question Loki melted into a bird shape and zipped out of the room.

“Man, I really don’t like that guy,” complained Magnus.

“He had the ring,” sighed Blitz.

“What the heck was _that_ about?” asked the very confused voice of the Civil War guy. “What ring? Was that Loki?” he asked. “Was that _the_ Loki?”

“Unfortunately,” confirmed Magnus. He gave Blitz a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, Blitz. I’ll go to Alfheim and find him for you.”

“Hey, if someone needs to be rescued you can totally count me in!” exclaimed Magnus’s friend. “Are there many hills in Alfheim? I’m really good with those.”

“ _I’m_ going to go to Alfheim,” declared Blitz. “You can come if you want, but you don’t have to go in my place.”

“But Blitz,” countered Magnus. “You can’t go to Alfheim. There’s too much sunlight. That would be really dangerous for you!”

“I. Am. Going. To. Alfheim.”

There was no room for argument in Blitz’s voice.

* * *

Hearth awoke in a very dim room with a throbbing headache. His hands were still cuffed. With its windowless walls and only a low-watt bulb in the ceiling, the cell was clearly designed to keep its prisoners in a weakened state, allowing only the bare minimum of light to stay alive.

Hearth was used to surviving in low-light environments due to all the time he’d spent in Midgard and Nidavellir, but even with his cultivated tolerance, there just seemed to be something extra draining about being light-deprived in Alfheim. This room felt _sinister_. He could practically feel the residual despair of years of prisoners still lingering in the bare space.

He had no concept of time. Eventually an officer came in and tried to interrogate him. Hearth attempted to mouth: _I can’t talk, I’m deaf_ , but he wasn’t sure that he got the shapes right. It was one thing to be able to read other people’s lips, but trying to form the same movements in reverse without watching when you had no practice was another matter. He’d probably just mumbled a bunch of nonsense.

Not that it mattered of course. The chances that any of the police force could either read lips or understand ASL was probably zilch. It wouldn’t make a difference if his hands were free for him to talk. No one would understand him or make the effort to find an interpreter. They had already decided he was guilty anyway. He was pretty much screwed.

It didn’t take long for the policeman to give up on his questioning and leave Hearth alone in the cell again.

Hearth paced around a bit and kicked at the door, but his kick was so feeble that he almost fell over from the effort. The light deprivation was doing its job at keeping him too weak to defend himself or try to escape. With his energy sapped and his hands bound he had no hope of reaching Yggdrasil. He didn’t have his runes or his staff, so he couldn’t rely on magic for help. He didn’t even know if Blitz was still alive.

_I should have left a note_ , he realized in dismay. _If Blitz lives he’ll never know why I didn’t come back. He’ll think I abandoned him on purpose._

_That_ thought filled him with more despair than the reality of knowing that he was hopelessly trapped. He could deal with bad things happening to him far easier than he could deal with losing Blitz or Blitz hating him.

_I need to get out of here_ , he thought desperately. _I need to escape. I need to see Blitzen._

_It’s possible to do rune-magic without actual runes_ , he suddenly remembered. _The All-father can do it._

He’d never tried casting spells without his runes before though. Hearthstone rather doubted he could do it even at full strength. What were the chances that he could do it under crippling weakness?

He had nothing to lose though. Hearth closed his eyes and pictured the _Raidho_ rune in his mind. He imagined the rune appearing on the wall of his cell and slowly burning through the dull cement until his confinement dissolved and a branch of Yggdrasil reached out to him, allowing him to easily step on.

He focused on the vision with all his energy and attention, not daring to open his eyes and find out if it worked.

He was startled out of his concentration by an unexpected touch.

Hearth’s eyes snapped open, expecting to find a police officer back to interrogate him again.

Instead he was confronted with a very surprised Magnus.

“Woah,” Magnus was saying, looking around in amazement. “Did you do that? We were still on the tree a second ago!”

Hearth couldn’t answer. But it didn’t matter, he was too distracted to answer Magnus once he noticed that his friend wasn’t alone; two other figures stood behind him, one significantly shorter and wearing a netting-draped pith helmet.

_Blitz was here. Blitz had come to find him. Blitz—that stupid idiot—had risked coming to Alfheim for him!_

Hearth ran at the veiled dwarf with the intention of tackling him in a hug. He remembered too late though that his hands were cuffed, but he’d already gained too much momentum to stop. Hearth clumsily plowed into Blitz, knocking them both to the ground.

He tried to scramble backwards, embarrassed at bowling Blitz over like that, but strong (and heavily clothed) arms snaked out and wrapped around him, trapping Hearth in a hug he couldn’t return. He collapsed into the embrace, practically dissolving with relief and happiness.

_Blitz was alive._

_Blitz was here._

_Blitz didn’t hate him._

He kept waiting for Blitz to let go, but the dwarf’s arms stayed tightly locked around him. He didn’t feel inclined to disentangle himself. He didn’t care that Magnus and some other person was watching. He could happily stay like this for a hundred years.

Magnus wasn’t going to let that happen though. He shook Hearth’s shoulder.

“Hey guys,” he was saying. “This is adorable and all, but maybe you should finish hugging it out back in Midgard. We don’t want to get caught before we get you out of here.”

Hearth nodded reluctantly but Blitz still didn’t immediately let go. Eventually he pulled his arms away and he and Magnus helped Hearth up. Blitz flipped the veil back on his helmet and looked at Hearth in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

_I am now_ , thought Hearth. He nodded.

“Good.” Blitz inspected him all over anyway, clearly not trusting Hearth to be honest about his own wellbeing. He frowned when he noticed the handcuffs. “You can’t climb the tree like that!”

Hearth shrugged, unable to argue. He was pretty sure he could manage okay, even though it would be dangerous.

Blitz was having none of that though. He rummaged around in his coat pockets and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters. In seconds the handcuffs were on the ground in pieces.

“Wow, did you know you were going to need those?” asked a curly haired guy in a blue jacket with chevrons on the sleeves.

“Dwarves always travel with a full set of tools,” Blitz explained.

_Thank you_ , Hearth was finally able to sign.

“Is there anyone here you need me to beat up for you before we go?” Blitz asked seriously. “I don’t like the look of how you’ve been treated.”

Hearth shook his head. _Let’s go. I just want to get home._

By ‘home’ me meant Newbury Street. And a warm look passed through Blitz’s eyes as he realized that.

“Done and done,” said Blitz, tightly grabbing Hearth’s hand. He pulled him up onto a branch and the cold cell quickly faded into the mist of the Ginnungagap.

* * *

Blitz didn’t let go of Hearth’s hand, even when they’d dropped off the final tree branch. They stopped briefly in Valhalla to say goodbye to Magnus and T.J. but they didn’t stay long. Both of them were anxious to return to their apartment. Although the closer they got, the more anxious Hearth became. While they were navigating the tree he had an excuse to postpone the confessions he knew he needed to make. He couldn’t talk while they were climbing nor could he say everything in front of their companions. But once they got home he’d run out of excuses. And he _had_ to admit some things to Blitz. There was no more escaping it. If he didn’t things would only continue to get more strained and weird. He’d be consumed with guilt.

He braced himself to break the ice but never got the chance. The second the door to the apartment had shut Blitz was flinging himself at him, crushing Hearth in another hug. And this time there wasn’t anyone else around to be making a show for. It was just the two of them, and it felt amazingly familiar and comforting and was just like old times, before things had gotten awkward. Hearth hugged him back and let his eyes slide shut for a moment, breathing in Blitz’s familiar scents of soap and fabric starch.

_This is perfect_ , thought Hearth _. This is exactly how I always want things to be. I’m probably going to ruin this as soon as I tell him everything._

But Blitz didn’t let go, so Hearth had an excuse to stall just a _little_ bit longer.

In fact, if anything Blitz just intensified his hugging. Gradually his head tilted up so that Hearth could get a better look at his face, and _oh gods_ , the way Blitz was looking at him…. It couldn’t actually mean what it sort of looked like it meant…right? No, he had to be reading into that expression. He was projecting. Blitz was just looking at him like that because he’d been worried. He was just relieved that he was all right. That had to be all that was about….

Almost unconsciously though Hearth found his own head tilting down towards Blitz’s. Instead of pulling back, Blitz just inched a little closer. Like a magnetic inevitability they were soon almost nose-to-nose and Hearth’s heart was beating so hard he was sure that Blitz could probably feel it, even through the excessive layers of sun-protective clothing. He was still trying to convince himself that he was reading too much into all of this when Blitz closed his eyes and began to kiss him.

The warm press of Blitz’s lips against his sent an electric jolt straight into his gut. He squeezed his own eyes shut, blocking out everything except the sensation of Blitz’s mouth and Blitz’s uneven breathing and the gentle scrape of Blitz’s teeth across his bottom lip. Hearth’s stomach was in so many knots that he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to disentangle it and feel normal again. But he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to ever feel normal again. This was the best feeling he’d ever had. He dug his fingers tightly into Blitz’s shoulders and felt Blitz stiffen slightly. For one gut-twisting moment Hearth thought that Blitz was having second thoughts and realizing that he was making a mistake. His eyes snapped open only to find Blitz side-eyeing his shoulder and Hearth realized that he was probably wrinkling some pricelessly rare fabric and Blitz was struggling not to care. And the fact that Blitz somehow still had the presence of mind to worry about his outfit at a time like this just seemed so ridiculously _him_ and weirdly normal (and how was it possible for anything to feel _normal_ in the middle of an earth-shattering moment like this?) that Hearth couldn’t stop the sudden bubble of laughter that snuck up on him. It started as a small hiccup of a laugh but then grew until Hearth was choking on snorting giggles. Blitz seemed a bit startled at the change in Hearth’s mood, but the laughter was contagious and soon he was snickering into their kiss as well. In a moment of bolstered confidence Hearth took advantage of Blitz’s opening mouth and tentatively slipped his tongue inside. Blitz immediately stopped laughing. Hearth felt stocky fingers clutch at his own back and then Blitz was returning the deepened kiss with urgent enthusiasm.

Hearth had no idea how long they kept at it, but eventually his movements slowed as a nagging prick of guilt took root and dug into his mind, poisoning the magic of finally connecting with Blitz the way he’d always wanted to.

_He still doesn’t know_ , nagged the internal voice. _You’re tricking him. He wouldn’t care if he knew everything. He might not really care anyway. He might just feel sorry for you. Why would anyone actually want to be with you like this anyway? You’re worthless. He’ll realize it soon._

Hearth abruptly pulled away and the startled look of hurt on Blitz’s face only twisted the knife deeper into Hearth’s heart.

_I’ve been taking advantage of you_ , he forced himself to admit before his nerves could fail again.

_What?_ There was nothing but confusion written in Blitz’s expression.

_I wanted this the whole time_ , he gestured between them.

Blitz’s brow crinkled and then his mouth quirked up into a smile. _I see no problem_ , he signed.

_I wanted this before the funeral_ , Hearth frantically explained. _I had ulterior motives when I suggested we pretend to be together. I took advantage of you at a bad time._

“Oh,” said Blitz, looking mildly surprised. “Really? That’s okay.”

_It’s not okay_ , Hearth insisted. He raked his hands over his face. _It was selfish and terrible and you deserve better than that._

“Hearth, it’s _okay_ ,” replied Blitz. “You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. I would have said no if I didn’t want to. But I _wanted_ to. Gods’ galoshes, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this! I think I wanted it all the way back then too, but I hadn’t realized. I’m _glad_ you made me realize. I wish I’d had the nerve to tell you sooner.”

A dangerous spark of hope began to blossom in Hearth’s chest but he staunched it down, still convinced that he’d screwed everything up.

_I stole your ring_ , he continued to confess.

_I know_ , replied Blitz simply, apparently unperturbed.

_You know?_

_It was kind of obvious. This one feels different._ Blitz tapped at the duplicate ring he was still wearing. _This is yours, by the way,_ he added, taking it off and handing it back to Hearth.

With shaking fingers Hearth took the ring and tossed it as far as he could. _I don’t want anything to do with anything that looks like those rings again. I messed up. I tried to save you from it but I messed up. I lost it. It can still hurt innocent people._

_It’s not lost_ , replied Blitz.

_What?_

“It’s not lost,” said Blitz aloud. “Loki has it.”

_Oh no. I messed up even worse than I thought_ , lamented Hearth.

“I don’t think there’s anything we could have done to stop him from getting his hands on it, Hearth,” said Blitz calmly. “There’s only so much we can do against a god. I’m pretty sure this outcome was guaranteed right from the beginning. I’m just glad you’re okay. Things could have turned out a whole lot worse.”

_Aren’t you mad at me?_

_I’m mad you put yourself in danger_ , replied Blitz. _Don’t ever do something like that again without telling me._

_But…that’s it?_ asked Hearth, kind of shocked.

“Well, I’ll be kind of annoyed if you decide we shouldn’t be together because you think you deserve to be unhappy or some stupid nonsense like that,” said Blitz, frowning.

_You want to be together?_ Hearth nervously asked, not disputing that he really had had some thoughts along those lines. _Like this? For real?_

Blitz answered with just a single sign.

_Forever_.

If Blitz had had anything else to add, Hearth wouldn’t know. He was too busy kissing him to see.

* * *

Sharing his extreme happiness over his change in relationship status was a bit anti-climatic, considering that nearly every person Hearth knew (including a whole lot of people he didn’t) were under the impression that he and Blitz were already a couple. Pretty much only Magnus and Samirah had room for surprise at the news, although even they exchanged a slightly smug knowing look when Hearth and Blitz told them.

Things didn’t exactly change a whole lot either, considering that they already lived together and pretty much did everything together. But now there was an extra layer of comfort and intimacy that Hearth had never experienced before, but that just felt so natural between them that it really _did_ seem strange that their relationship hadn’t been like this all along.

Hearth couldn’t help smiling every time he thought of the word _relationship_. For years he’d been completely isolated and fairly convinced that that would be his lot forever. But somehow he’d managed to find not only a family but also a genuine partner. He hadn’t thought that he’d ever be this lucky. Maybe things _had_ changed more than it seemed.

He was busy practicing rune-less rune magic one day in their study when Blitz knocked on the door and sat down at the table. He seemed a bit fidgety and nervous.

_Everything okay?_ Hearth sat down the stack of books that he had been attempting to levitate.

“Yeah!” exclaimed Blitz. “Everything’s super. Great. Totally excellent. I just wanted to talk.”

Hearth wasn’t entirely sure he liked the sound of that. He tried to ignore the pulse of worry that began to thrum in the back of his head.

_Okay_ , he signed cautiously.

“Right,” said Blitz, drumming his fingers on the table. “So this is probably really stupid of me, seeing that you don’t like jewelry and all….”

_I like it okay_ , Hearth interrupted. _It’s just not my thing so much_.

“Right, right, exactly,” agreed Blitz, nodding. “I totally know that. Which is why it’s really stupid that I’d gotten kind of attached to the idea that you had a ring I gave you, right? And that it kind of bummed me out that you threw it away. I mean, not that I _blame_ you, that ring was totally evil and all, I’m _glad_ you threw it away. It was the right thing to do…but it still kinda bummed me out, which is super dumb. So, uh, right. Anyway. I know it’s stupid but since that bothered me and all I just thought that I’d make you another, non-evil one. You don’t have to wear it or anything, I just wanted to give you a non-evil ring.” He coughed and looked sideways, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Hearth had to physically turn Blitz’s head back so he could see him sign.

_You made me a ring?_ He asked in surprise.

“Um…yeah?” Blitz was doing a pretty good imitation of a deer caught in headlights. “You don’t have to wear it or anything!”

_I’ll wear it_ , signed Hearth, breaking out into a smile. _May I see?_ He held out his hand.

“Um, yeah!” Blitz pulled his hand out of his pocket and dropped something heavy into Hearth’s hand. Hearth held up the ring to find a chunky gold band with an engraving of a duck in the center of it.

Hearth wasn’t entirely sure how to react.

“Ack! Wrong ring!” Like lightning Blitz snatched the band back from Hearth and shoved it in his pocket. “Ah-ha-ha-ha-yeah, no. Sorry! Rejected prototype. I was nervous when I made that one. Um, right. Hang on a second.” He scrambled around, digging in various pockets until he pulled out another one.

This time the ring he shoved into Hearth’s hand was an unadorned band. But the metal was swirled in a mokume pattern of red gold and bone steel.

“I thought just a plain gold ring was too boring,” Blitz added, looking kind of embarrassed. “You look nice with some color.”

Hearth broke out in a grin. _I love it_ , he signed, after slipping the ring onto his finger.

Blitz’s embarrassed smile wavered. He coughed again. “Um, I think it would look better on your left hand,” he commented.

Hearth raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. He moved the ring onto his other ring finger.

Blitz’s face relaxed into a more genuine smile. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s—that’s great. So…uh. Tell me…how do you feel about red silk cummerbunds?”

#

The end

#


End file.
